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storiumemporium · 10 months

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Little Gifts (1/3)

Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SINGLE POST FOR ALL THREE SCENARIOS GOD FUCKING DAMMIT—

ahem :)

This is Aegon meeting his babies for the very first time, please enjoy!

| Word Count 6.2k | Angst, Fluff | Childbirth, brief absentee-ism, Aegon has parental issues out the ass, general cuteness at the end |

Gods help Kings’ Landing once Aegon The Elder realizes he’s going to be a father.

It’s a tumultuous time at best, though never one that came directly at your expense. Aegon had never wanted children, he always told you. Bound up in the sheets and in your arms, with cruel platitudes about how they were smelly, messy, foul little creatures. That you already had one of those to deal with, and you didn’t need that one to put another in you.

This, of course, was a lie. And you knew that, you did. Aegon who hates children, yet gives them more patience than any other in the world. Sitting at the steps of the Keep and listening to some Lord’s boy excitedly tell him about a cat he saw prowling about the gardens. Never sparing a mean word, or even so much as a look of boredom. Aegon does not have patience, Aegon does not suffer things that he does not like for anyone save that of his family.

Aegon loves children, Aegon is terrified of them.

You came to the Keep when the Queen Mother herself expressed a desire to wed her son away- initially the ideal had been to have Helaena marry her elder brother, but for some manner of reason the honor had passed down to Prince Aemond. Rumor tapped it’s mousy foot, but it hadn’t been your business and you’d been far too nervous to poke around and find out.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize the dysfunction of the royal family. To see the way the man you were vying to marry would shrink away from his own mother and father, the way he would curl and wilt under their gazes as if he thought he didn’t belong within their memory.

Needless to say, it followed him into his blossoming- handsome adulthood. The knowledge of the brutality of childbirth, of how it rips a woman apart and kills her if she’s not strong enough. The understanding of what comes after for the rest of ones’ life, and the sheer amount of damage you could do to that life if you weren’t equipped for it.

As far as Aegon had been concerned, he would never be equipped for it. He hadn’t even been worthy of love when he was a child. How could he ever be worthy of giving it?

It’s for this that, following your marriage, you do not bear a child for quite some time. A full year of marriage without sight or whisper of a swollen belly that might carry his babes. This was somewhat devastating for you. Not that you held any grudge for Aegon’s fears, for the way you would find him with glistening eyes and wine-slicked lips, every time his mother would bear down upon him about his duties.

No, it was the gossip and whispering. That you were a failed woman and a terrible wife, that perhaps he thought you so ugly that he couldn’t even bear the few minutes it took to spill his seed in your womb. That you were so dull and lifeless that he could not derive pleasure from you. That your womb was simply a wasteland and that you needed to be replaced. Nevermind that you loved him. Nevermind that he loved you. Happiness was of no importance, here.

Aegon held off for as long as he could, but eventually the frightened boy was chased to his end.

Alicent had had enough of him- had made the ultimatum very clear. Put a babe in your womb, or she would find a new bride for him. Had made sure to list off all the eligible young women of higher houses than your own that would gladly throw you out with the rats to share his bed. It’d been a yelling match, it’d been filled with tears on his end and the bitter sort of resoluteness only a woman who herself had children she hadn’t wanted could possess.

It was the very first time Aegon had ever crawled into your marriage bed and had you while he was drunk.

Things did not get better for some time. Aegon drank, and he drank more. He bedded you with none of the love he truly held for you- because it was not his choice to do so, and he fled to his old vices in the deepest pits of the city, skin crawling as if he’d both been the violated and the violator. He could not imagine how it must have made you feel.

Lonely. Lonelier than you’d ever been. Kept awake with the remnants of his heat between your legs and the absence of his person- whether he was in your bed with you or not. Had he ceased to love you? Is the thought of a child so all consuming that you can no longer hold candle to it? Did he flee from you into the night, find the arms of women who would not have their bodies ruined and spirits tempered by motherhood? Did he disgrace you in such ways?

You didn’t know, and you were too terrified to ask. And so you sat and grew with the misery. He drank more and you ate less, withering beneath a relationship that you could not live without, and yet were being destroyed within.

Until one moon turned to another, and another. And you did not bleed.

The Maesters confirmed it easily enough, the babe that surely grew within you— Aegon had done his duty, and your womb had accommodated, you were not barren. But it did not feel like a joy, to learn of this alone, without him holding your hand. To be the one to go and tell him, to have to inform him of what surely must have been his worst nightmare.

You’d started regal, head held high, shoulders squared. You were informing him of his legacy, you were continuing the reign of the Dragons into another generation.

By the time your slippered feet scuffed the threshhold of your shared chambers, you were a little girl with your arms bound around your middle, hunched and ready to cry.

What a pointless struggle you put yourself through, fingers dancing repetitive tangles around the wash-softened silk embroidery of your bodice. You know how this will fare, perhaps- your mind supplies you desperately even as it’s too late- you could simply not tell him, and let him realize when your body has changed too much for it to be hidden?

He’s slack where he sits at the foot of your shared bed, the fabric of his undershirt fine enough that you can see the flush of skin beneath. He’s always been a touch warmer than his siblings— more like his mother, that rosy hue that clung perpetually to her. Perhaps he was most like her in all regard, for you could not imagine any other Targaryen crying with such open and childlike vulnerability as he could.

You wonder if that is what you will receive now. Tears, or rage, or fear? Will he be offended by your decision to tell him? Will you watch those downturned, lovely features warp into something so far and foreign from you. As he has become over the past moons?

And you try, you truly do. You mean to tell him firmly and prescriptively of your state and what to expect in the coming moons. But when your lips part to break the silence, it is anything but.

“I am sorry-!” It must be a half-beg, it must be a whine, it must be the cries of a wounded animal. Afraid and in pain. The kind that would gnaw itself to bone to survive. You wish to gnaw out your own womb with teeth not suited.

His head jerks then, startled. But you can’t see it, your gaze refuses to witness a thing past the torrent that crowds around your lashes and spews over your eyes. A relentless wave of grief futilely smothered by the way your soft palm pinches angrily around your mouth. Like it was a physical thing to be held, like it hadn’t already begun to drown the air. Humid with pain.

And it is for this— swaddled in the no no no no this is all wrong it’s wrong it’s bad no- that you do not, cannot see Aegon rise. It is for this that you are nearly taken clean off your feet by the sheer force with which his frame collides against yours, held solely by his iron-like grip.

But you don’t question it, the hand at your belly and the hand at your mouth flee to him. Dig in tightly enough to sting through the cloth that separates your nails from his direct skin. You’re clawing at him, scratching violent red ribbons into that peach skin that clings across his shoulders and back. If you’re truly hurting him, if he’s noticing it at all, he makes not a sound, says not a word to it.

“Husband, please..! I am- am afraid, I do not want to be alone. I cannot- I cannot be-” anymore. You couldn’t be alone anymore. Because you had been. You are. He’d abandoned you.

And he knows it, knows it so violently that tears spring to his own eyes. He can’t wrap himself around you as tightly as you dig into him- the cognizant and horribly numb parts of his pysche supply him with an offensively dull you would hurt the babe if you did. That his mind offers this with such simplicity doesn’t prevent the horrible shudder that crests his body. The gooseflesh that forms.

What a horrible, terrible creature he’s been. Typical, but inexcusable.

“Shh, shh…” He tries, weakly. An attempt to balm you while he scrambles to put together the right words to comfort. He knows what he needs to say, he just doesn’t wish to lie. Aegon needs to know that if he tells you this, he will mean it. What he has already done is a heartbreak, enough. But it holds nothing to the weight of a broken promise. “I will not leave you, do you hear me? Never again. The wine will go, the taverns will go, the fights will go. I will be here. I am here.”

It was easy, it was so effortless to pull you to the bed. To lay you curled and fetal beside him as he bound himself to you once more. The door was ajar, enough so that overly nosy servants and guards alike could see the young royals tucked among the pillows, could see the large hand trailing delicate paths over even more fragile features. Soothing and rhythmic motions until a crumpled and upset face turned to something neutral, nearly sleeping.

He would not promise you that he would be perfect, that he would be able to love and cherish the way you deserved. But he would be there. He would be there. You would not be alone. He would never abandon you again.

And he held true to his word. Aegon becomes a constant at your side, perhaps more than you even anticipated. He follows you to learn everything from the wetnurses and Maesters. He follows you to the gardens, he asks you how you feel. He keeps a rigorous, near paranoid grip of your health and mental state.

First you find it confusing, but not unpleasant. You find that just as quickly as you’ve come up with child, Aegon has put aside the things that kept him away from you. Curled into bed and talking to you in rasping, warm tones. Kissing your fingers and nose and lips. And even, when he thought you asleep, trailing a shaking hand over your belly- still too early on to show in any real way.

Then you understand, and it becomes tragic. Aegon knew the stories of Aemma Targaryen, his father’s first wife. At least in rumor if not in direct. And he knew of Alicent’s horrors, as he had been the cause of many of them. He stares at your growing belly over the moons, and he grows paler and paler with the sight of it. Sickened by it. Terrified. Of them, and for you. He fears that you will die, and he fears that he will be the one made to take your life. Even if it’s not him doing it, then giving the order to insistent, heartless Maesters.

This fear increases threefold when the Maesters proclaim that there cannot possibly be a single child within your fertile womb. That you grow too large and too fast. Twins, it could only be.

Aegon sits up that night, with you sound asleep beside him, and he stares into the dark with absolute certainty that he has murdered you. That he marches you to your grave faithfully, now. How it is he is expected to live with it, he doesn’t know.

Nightmares plague him, shakes assail him, his appetite vanishes. You must coax food and drink into him just as Aegon must beg you to take things easily. To let him help you around, to not take so many stairs, to gentle yourself.

He sleeps less, too. And you find yourself kneading puffy cheeks in your palms and caressing reddened eyes as you coo at him and push him to bed. Watching over him like you might- some day soon- your own children.

Eventually however, too soon, much too soon, you head into your labors and Aegon feels the most helpless he ever has. You go to a war that he cannot fight in, and all he can do is sit witness to whether or not you live or- or-

Uselessness should be a thing as natural to Aegon as sleeping. All his life it has been of abundant clarity that his importance was simply in function and name, and not what he- the person- could do. It was not about him, only his blood, his title, the cock between his legs.

It should have been something he’d resigned himself to. But watching you lay there, screaming with tears and sweat trailing down your face- no, he wasn’t so resigned after all. It bit at his bones and made some burning rash crawl it’s pestilent fingers up his clammy back. His hand had long gone numb in your grip, squeezed until nails dug savagely into the places between his bones. It was all he had to offer, his hand, his useless words, the cloth which he gently used to wipe away your sweat.

Even that, they had tried to deny him. Even that. As if he were so Gods-be-damned useless that he couldn’t keep the sweat from your eyes.

“Mm… Aeg..?” Your voice is under a current, being pinched and stretched by your exhastion. You’d been fighting for so long now.

“Yes, ladybug?”

“Could eat an entire pig, right now.”

It makes a bittersweet joy touch Aegon’s cheeks. His smile curves bright and wide, teeth glittering in the afternoon sun, but his lips are trembling and his eyes are glassy. You’re only half there, he’s sure of it, skin glistening and eyes lidded as you stare both at and through him. “I’m sure, love. Been wrestling with a pair of stubborn dragons all day, haven’t you? Once you’re done, I’ll go to the kitchens myself, whip up a frenzy. Everything you could want, okay?

All you need to do is stay here, with me.” Please, please. For the love of the Old Gods and the New. Stay. Don’t let me be what took you.

His hand, the one not clasped relentlessly within yours, brushes at your forehead and at your hair. Tugging strands away with a sort of histrionic worry that maybe they were making you uncomfortable by clinging to your face like that. He didn’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than you were. In fact, how terrible must the sheets feel on your skin? The nightgown they force you to remain in even as your body rips itself apart to create life?

You should be naked, bare on something soft but firm so that it wouldn’t cling to your skin. There is no shame in a man being rendered completely bare so that his war wounds can be tended to, and yet they will not offer you the dignity of the same treatment? Unfair, cruel- you should be allowed to breathe—

His hand practically creaks like settled oak when you start to vice around him again. It’s not fully there yet, simply a pained whimper, but your vision is sharpening by it. You’re forced back to the forefront by cruelty, and Aegon can only give some sort of childish look of sympathy and regret, forehead lowering to touch yours.

“Don’t know how much further I can go, Aegon…” You say, submerging Aegon into a cold that would make even the bitter North curl just a touch deeper into their furs.

“No, no. Don’t you say that, listen to me. Listen… I know it’s beginning to hurt again-” a sentiment unfortunately punctuated by the shriller, louder pained cry that starts to trickle out from your heaving chest. “-But I know you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever seen. So you’re going to do this, do you hear me? You’re going to bear two beautiful, healthy children, and you’re going to be fine, and you’re going to eat an entire fucking pig. You hear me? Hm?”

He doesn’t hear the words murmuring out and around him from the midwives and the Maester. He doesn’t know that the pain is cresting because one of the children is coming- he doesn’t know. All he knows is that you’re looking at him now, and you look pleading. You remind him of a frightened little girl, seeking out the comfort of someone bigger and safer during a storm. Aegon leans over you allows his cheek to find your head and his weight to join yours in sheltering. Instinctual, without particular rhyme or reason, but he’s rewarded for the thought with the touch of your nose against him. Tucking down even as you scream louder than you have at any other moment since this began in the early hours of the morning.

Then-

Oh—?

A cry, so fragile and gentle and quiet breaks the air. It’s so tiny, and all of the skin and hair across his entire body raises at the sound of it. It’s so small, and yet the roaring in Aegon’s ears would tell him that the Keep is falling apart around him. That the sea is drying, that Harrenhal is crumbling, that the Wall is melting.

It meant nothing to him, in all the years he heard familiar cries like that. It meant anxiety, it meant help, where is an elder!? It meant another day that I’m just a failure, it meant looming dread.

A babe’s cry meant nothing to Aegon. His babe’s cry nearly pulls him away from you, nearly has him crumpling broken and limp against the red brick and mortar beneath his feet. He could simply lie there, could curl fetally and stare blankly beneath his bed into the vacuous and yawning nothingness that you lay fighting for your life above. The very sound could eradicate him without effort.

He’s scared, suddenly. Oh, oh Gods. Aegon wants his mother, he wants Alicent to hold him, he wants the reassurances now. He’s afraid, he’s terrified. What if he gets it wrong? What if he drops the babe? What if he forgets, or is clumsy, or reckless, or just plain bad? No one ever taught him how to love innocence.

“My Prince!” A sharp voice calls him out of a complete blank state, he jolts as if slapped, eyes wide and doe-like when he settles upon his caller. A stout, ruddy cheeked woman with kindness seemingly built into the very lines and freckles of her face. “She’s doing well, Prince Aegon. Just one more to go, okay? Think you can convince her?”

There’s something lined in this woman’s ale colored eyes, made more vivid by the light. It’s a hint, it’s the gentlest way he’s ever had someone coax him to get his shit together and focus. A nudge rather than a slap. It’s a sweet boy, remember what’s happening rather than a stupid mutt, a useless grandchild who sees nothing more than his cups.

So he turns back to you, to the way your head lulls slightly under his motions, and the way you seem almost absent from your own flesh. It scares him all over again, not that he needed the reminder- mostly that Aegon is the fly caught between two palms now. The clap so loud to his tiny frame that it should shake the teeth right out of him.

“Ladybug… Sweet love, look at me? Look,” he whispers with love, touches your chin with index and middle fingers to pull you toward him again. “You already did it, see? I told you. You’ve only got one left, should be much quicker now that their older—”

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know if he just had a son or a daughter, and when he swallows around that information his jaw trembles. “—Their older sibling made way, yes? So that’s it, this is it. You’re okay, you’re amazing. Just one more, then I’ll get to bringing an entire roast pig in here for you.”

You manage him a smile for your husband. Looking up at him and recognizing in all the ways that Aegon looks utterly petrified by this. You’re still not entirely sure about survival, the pain remains, and the sudden absence of something that had become so intrinsic to your body. The way it’s as if they’re taking pieces of you with them, stealing at your soul to fuel their own. You find that you don’t mind it, and yet when you blink you see silver and starlight rather than the typical blank darkness of your eyelids.

But he’s scared, and he’s making you all sorts of sweet Aegon promises, and you know you cannot allow this to happen- for him, yes. For the broken man you’d leave behind, for the beautiful boy you always loved to see smile and don’t think ever would again. But also for the children, the children who would have no parents. For the cycle that would repeat, with a bitter man too hurt to look at his own children and love them, because he’d see you there.

You know this, you know him, and you scream with what little ferocity you have left before they even call for you to do so.

Aegon finds himself squeezing his eyes shut, swaying as if he means to rock you- or himself, he’s unsure in that regard. You’re still heaving, still fighting, you’re clawing into his forearm until- much to his mild impress and great worry, droplets of life are pooling out and cascading over the softness of his flesh.

“Little bit longer, Princess!” The same kind faced, warm hearted woman says loudly over your noises of protest and suffering. “An eager one, this! Doesn’t want to be too far behind their sister, eh?”

Sister. The word almost lacks meaning in the fabric of his mind. Sister. He has a daughter, then. A baby girl, a sweet little thing. No wonder her cry was so soft and so devastating. He can feel his spine attempting to break free, he’s sure of it. That is the only way he could possibly comprehend the sensation of the entire length of bone vibrating and trembling violently beneath a thin layer of skin and sinew. Yes, his body is like that of a mayfly, he has helped- however futilely- to bring life and now life he escapes.

“Once more, Princess.” Her voice comes again, and Aegon finds himself looking at her hovering between your legs. He must look a sight himself- embarrassing, considering he has no hand in this fight. But he can feel the pressure around his eyes, the sting of his lips from where he’d bitten them bloody and the tears had found their way into the cuts. He tries to prevent this, to not look like a scared child, but the sympathetic pinch that doesn’t leave as the woman looks between you and him is enough for him to know he’s failed.

“Okay… Okay…” You’re convincing yourself of it, nodding even with the slight resistance from Aegon’s plush cheek. It’s as if you’re being coaxed to do something frightening to you- like when he first introduced you to Sunfyre. Your voice soft, assuring yourself as you pressed on with him. That it would be fine, because he would never let you get hurt, would he?

So he does the same thing to you now that he did then.

“My pretty Princess…” He whispers, rasping and thick. Aegon is your ferryman, you decide in delirium. He’s cut through the fog just as quick, effortless like a lantern in the night. “There’s no need to be afraid… You hear me? I’m right here, I’m right by your side, see?”

His hand threads through yours once again, clammy and hot from nervousness while he rubs soothing patterns.

“Just a little bit more.” Just a couple more steps.

“Then you’re done.” Then you can pet him. Ride with me? See the skies? All that… Targaryen goodness we like to tout so much.

What he hadn’t told you, and you’d already known anyways, was that he was asking permission to love you. It was the first time he’d kissed you, up there. Far away from the city and expectation. That’d been the point. Your first kiss deserved to be Aegon. Not Prince Aegon. Just him.

You screech out a horrible noise, grinding sand and sharp cobbles ripping up and down your throat before it waters down into a sob- Aegon can offer nothing but a sort of hiccupping gasp, an almost panic at the noise that splits the stone and races out of the windows thrown open. Were you dying? Was this going to be it?

A shape now, pulled free quickly and cut away from the mother- from you- just as quick. There’s a certain urgency there, to the way they move. They’re not celebrating or offering to let him see- not yet, no. And it increases his terror twofold, does nothing to soothe the burgeoning feeling that someone is about to die. So he lifts, eyes darting around at people far older and more experienced than himself. He asks no questions because he cannot find his voice, has not even seen the faces of his children yet in the flurry.

The silence is deafening, he can make out a pale foot, a pale arm, the gentle tap tap of someone patting at their flesh.

Finally, a soft, even quieter squeak.

“Congratulations,” you’re both addressed in turn by the rosy woman who turns- a tiny- so fucking tiny- bundle she swaddles in her arms as she approaches. “Two more, lovely Princesses for the Keep.”

His ears are ringing.

The babe- his babe, already shows the wicks of his pale locks, still too fine and short to know whether they’d curl or lay flat like their uncle. The face is a little redder than he’d anticipated, with a tiny swooping nose and a gently parted mouth. Her little eyes are closed, she must be so tired coming into the world like this, shouldn’t she?

He looks down at you then, and feels his heart leap into his throat to see you’re already looking at him. Your eyes are half lidded, but the smile there is nothing short of love. You look at him like it’s been years since you last touched, or like he placed the sun in the sky.

“We’re… we’re parents…” You manage, softly. You must be so tired, making someone else come into the world. Gods, you must be on the brink of sleep. You need sleep. You-

“We are,” he whimpers. You see the tears starting to pour. He looks afraid, yes. But you’d expected that. In fact, you didn’t expect this level of acceptance from him. You’d expected him to be in the corner with his knuckles in his teeth. For him to shy away from the bundle before you two, the other being brought back into the room somewhere beyond your fuzzy vision. “They’re so small, love.”

Aegon’s shape shadows yours, you can feel his heavy arms beneath your sweating frame like the great chains of a drawbridge, pulling you against him. It’s temporary, just so that he can slide you over, cooing something about how sweaty and warm where you were just laying must have been. And it’s true, but the pain and discomfort feels detached and distant, like you’re watching a play rather than living it in the moment.

And then he’s beside you, his body pressed all along yours. And the midwives are moving closer.

“She’ll need ample rest, you hear?” Someone says in the distance, your eyes slide off faces like water down the side of a cliff. But you can feel his humming affirmations, the vibrations make staying aware even harder, heavier. “Hard enough to bring one into the world, but she’s blessed you with two, my Prince.

No moving around without someone to keep watch. No awkward positions. And no getting any ideas with her for at least a turn of the moon. You hear?”

Aegon is painted in shades of crimson, but he nods along like some small child being given their first ‘grown up’ task. He wouldn’t fuck this up. He couldn’t. It would be dangerous if he did.

“She will recover, my Prince. I suggest you enjoy now the fruits of her labor.”

One is much smaller than the other, Aegon realizes. He’s not sure why he’s completely taken aback by it. Children didn’t all start out the same, nor did they end up the same either. He was much bigger than Aemond once upon a time. But this feels different.

His first born, she’s a bit of a fat one if he’s honest. He doesn’t know if a babe can even be such. But she is, a big round face and big round feet and meaty little fists. She’s wriggling and energetic, he realizes. Rowdy, even.

“Hello there,” he says quietly, awkwardly. He’s not sure how to do this part. He’s not sure he understands anything, anymore. His whole life feels as if it’s been taken aside and smashed with hammers. But it’s not so unpleasant anymore. It doesn’t feel like death, or the end. There’s sudden opportunity… Almost an excitement. For nothing else if not to see what these little babes grow into. He hopes they look more like you than him, even with the danger that poses.

“You gave your mother quite some trouble, do you know that?” The babe in his arms makes a creaky little noise, and he nervously shifts her around. How does one… adjust a baby without hurting it? “Yes, you did. I’m sure of it, you’re the one that kept putting your foot in her ribs. Aren’t you? You’d make her fight you all day, you ornery little thing.

But my… Aren’t you pretty.” She is, he’s decided already. She’ll be the prettiest thing in all the Kingdoms, the only competition will be the tiny little bundle settled in your arms.

She’s the opposite, so tiny that it frightens him. Face is redder, and much much quieter. But the Maester looked the babe over and said that she would likely simply be a small child. A quiet one. He was glad of that, though. He could handle the rowdy little beast in his arms. Could take on the challenge, you deserved a quiet little mousy thing. One that he can imagine now with such clarity that a wet smile curves his lips.

Fingers clinging to your skirts, and little eyes peeking around a leg. Quiet embroidery lessons where you teach her all your techniques. Blissful little strolls through the gardens with her.

Meanwhile, Aegon suspects this one will be chewing on his ankles in the night.

You’re watching him, and it’s a sort of relief you can’t describe. It makes you want to sob, to break down into hysterical tears at the sight. He’s smiling down at your daughter, your daughter! Bouncing her ever so gently and laughing in that fond timbre that ceaselessly gives you chills. The babe is still too young to move much, but she gurgles and makes all sorts of little noises that Aegon gasps at and reponds to in kind. You’re sure they’re holding some sort of conversation without you. Deciding what mischief they’ll get into together once she’s older.

Meanwhile the little one sitting in your arms just continues to rest. You brush the very tip of your finger against her nose, feel a foot wiggle. Hm, just like her father, then. You hope she gets his nose, that endearing little swoop that you love to kiss. Maybe his eyes too, the weapons that they would be in the hands of a woman.

“We did it,” you finally say. Your voice has come back to you slightly, exchanging the babes in an awkward fumble of limbs and embarrassed little laughs some time prior. You had remained floating in a bit of shock, head slouched against his shoulder as you waited out the minutes until things went horrifically wrong.

But now, with the sun hissing into the windows as it continues it’s trek across the sky, you realize that this is it. It’s okay. It’s over. You’d survived, and they’d survived. You have daughters now. Daughters and a husband who so clearly loves them with all his being.

Aegon had giggled like a little boy until his eyes and nose scrunched up while he held the larger of your daughters, had rocked her back and forth and whispered all sort of nonsense into her ear almost assuredly more for your own benefit than that of the child. Anything to make you giggle, to hear you have joy after it all.

But the moment your little star settled into his arms? Oh, he’d melted. You’d watched the way the joy, but also the pain, and the fear, and the anxiety melted off of him. He looked in awe. He’d not even been able to glance away from his littlest as he’d told you with such reverence she’s so small.

“You did,” he eventually says. His voice is nearly a whisper. They’re sleeping now, soundly and peacefully like little pieces of divine will cast upon the soil. “Look at them. Look what you did, ladybug… They’re perfect. You’ve created perfection.”

It’s hard not to giggle at his antics. “Aegon, my love… They’re yours too, you had just as much a hand—”

“But I didn’t, not really.” He shakes his head with conviction as he says it. Looking only briefly apologetic for running right over you with his words. “I- I bedded you, in the coldest way I could have. And I ran from you. And I left you alone while your body willed itself to create… this. Them. Our beautiful little Princesses. I only came back because you had to beg me. Your own husband, to stay.

No I- …I truly did nothing, here. I failed you, I think I did even when I promised to never leave you again. But the truth remains the same. I got to run away, you didn’t. You weren’t given a choice to run. This is yours. They are perfect because of you.”

You look away when the tears begin to drip off your chin, willing them not to dot your child and wake her. You’re not sure you’re ready for that stage. You want to see them sleep for just a touch longer.

“It was… hard… Aegon…” You concede this part to him, because it does no good to lie about the lonely nights of weeping and fear. “But I want you to know something…

It all went away the moment I saw you smile at them.”

It’s true, it did. You hold not a single reservation for the man beside you. You’ve always known him to have the heart and the will to love the way a good father should, you just never knew if he would give himself the chance.

He will, you think. You can already picture with heartfelt clarity what your near future will look like. The image of a head of white hair chasing a squealing little figure across the gardens. You can see yourself beneath the veranda, surrounded by vines and enjoying some sort of confection while you watch your whole world before you. You can hear the screeching laughter of a daughter tossed in the air, caught faithfully in strong arms. Laughter, so much laughter.

“I love them,” he says softly. Disbelieving of himself. “I love you.”

The hand not preoccupied with a sleeping bundle finds Aegon’s face, heart squeezing tenderly at the way his face drops into your palm so readily.

“My husband, father of my children…” Your finger traces the swoop of his nose, and you giggle when you see one of his feet squirm.

“I love you, in spite of nothing and with all my heart.”

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shesjustanothergeek · 4 months

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Nine

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Thank y'all so much for your patience! I apologize that the chapter is up late. Life has been bonkers lately, but I'm relieved and happy with this chapter. I honestly can't believe I've been writing this story for a year. Thank you so much for sticking with me through those who have joined along the way and those who are reading in real time! This will be the last mildly angsty chapter, so be prepared. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong, subby Aegon, a wiki of ice and fire is my only source of info here, sexual harassment.

"I have given everything and received scraps in return and you expect no fury?" - T.J. Pen, A Woman Scorned.

"This simply cannot be," Queen Alicent said to the slumped man before her, picking at her emerald dress sleeves and gnawing her plump lip.

The Queen was in a chaotic state. Her loose chestnut hair cascaded in a waterfall of waves, the tips dusting her delicate waist. She hadn't changed from the high-necked gown she wore to the petition. There wasn't a moment to herself since the promises of her old friend, immediately heading to care for the King as any dutiful wife under the Seven would.

The collar constricted Alicent's throat as she swallowed, pulling at the fabric to steady her breathing. "My son," she stuttered, mind reeling, "my son has fathered bastards in the slums of Flea Bottom, and now he beds one. This cannot be."

Lord Larys stared into the disarranged Queen, the whites of her nails non-existent as he leaned onto his able side, thumb absentmindedly stroking the ornate firefly head of his cane. The Strong Lord was unperturbed by his ally's abrupt appearance at the hour of the owl. He would never turn away his Queen when she was in need.

"You surely cannot be so shocked, Your Grace," he expressed, dark brow lowered. "She is born of sin, her Mother a whore. 'Tis in her blood."

Alicent was unsure of how to respond. She couldn't deny your heritage. Larys' words were correct. You were born out of a harlot's womb, of a sinner's seed. Your existence stained the Targaryen legacy, a shadow in the Seven's divine light. She advised the King that the first legitimization of a bastard would tear the kingdom's order apart and ruin years of established precedent, but he would not listen. The Queen should've known. It was not her place. The man named a woman the heir to the Iron Throne.

"He is my son. I only wish to see the best in him. I have turned a blind eye to his," Alicent paused, tucking her plush lips into her teeth, "disgraceful actions, but Prince Daemon's child... his favorite daughter."

"The young Princess has made herself a hearth in the Keep, Your Grace. She sees herself as above her station. My spiders have told me whispers of what occupies her time as of late."

Lord Larys leaned across the foot table that separated him from the Queen before pulling back, swiping his pink tongue to wet his mouth. Alicent mirrored his movements, an invisible string tethering her to the Master of Whispers. "Please, Lord Strong, speak freely."

The mousy-faced man smiled, his countenance flickering in the dim candlelight. "I do not wish to spread ill of the Princess, Your Grace. I am a man of honor, but what my spiders have said..."

The Queen's doe eyes widened in concern as her brows furrowed. She did not care about the events of the past. Larys was not the honorable man he claimed, but her mind's dark fantasies blinded her from any reason.

"The Princess sends ravens to her Father divulging private Council matters, she sharpens her blade with bodies, 'tis only a matter of time until the King passes and Princess Rhaenyra is crowned." The taste of copper flooded Alicent's tongue, the tang nearly choking her. "The girl is a pawn for her Father and Rhaenyra plans to make her the Hand. What do you imagine will happen when Aegon's mere existence seeks to undermine her claim?"

The Queen's spine straightened, her fingers pulling at the loose skin of her nail. "You believe she will kill Aegon if Daemon asks it of her?" Her Father's words from decades ago echoed in her ears, her expression becoming horror. "Rhaenyra would never allow that to happen."

"Do you believe it will be a queen manning the helm or that of a Rogue Prince?" Larys inquired with the quirk of an unruly brow.

He knew what he was doing—the Master of Whispers at work.

"She-she promised to return on dragonback. We were companions once..." Alicent trailed off, tears beginning to collect at her lash line as her head fell to her lap.

They were friends. They sat underneath the Heart Tree as girls, read stories together, and dreamed together. Was that only a memory now? Was the past so truly lost between them?

"That is only my thoughts on the matter, Your Grace, since you wished to hear them," the Strong Lord replied, his thumb returning the fidgeting on the metal firefly. "I believe it was a fair exchange on advice, my Queen."

The Queen's gaze shot up, making contact with the Lord's. She knew what he meant, what he wanted. Larys desired the same outcome as all men do. It wasn't reasonable for her to think this time would be different. He would not offer help out of the goodness of his heart. Alicent realized no man ever would.

"Of course," the young Queen stared, not accepting or denying, simply speaking.

She gathered the hem of her emerald dress, the golden pointed star of the Seven glinting in the candlelight. A necklace that once comforted her now only brought her shame as Alicent untied her white stockings.

***

The wall opened as you listened to the scratch of your quill drags across the parchment to your Father. You didn't need to look to see who it was; only one person entered through the secret passageways of Maegor's Holdfast.

"My darling," you sang, keeping your gaze locked on the final loops of the letters, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Aegon didn't answer, his footfalls light as he sauntered to your desk. You only raised an eyebrow in response, focused on the task.

"Oh, simply nothing, little Princess. I just overheard my Mother and Grandfather speaking of how I should be king." That piqued your interest, your hand halting its movements. "You hear a lot of things through these walls," he teased, bending at the knee to speak closer into your ear, "many things."

You placed the dry feather back into its inkpot as you turned to face the beaming Prince with a neutral expression. "Your elder sister is to be Queen," you declared factually.

"Well, yes," he grinned, taking a few strides away from you. "That's what my Father has decreed, but that was before he had a son."

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms, observing Aegon as he glanced back to ensure you were still paying attention. "Tis merely a thought, my sweet. Nothing more."

He flopped onto your made bed with a huff; his arms spread wide into a cross. Deciding to take the bait, you stood, crossing over to where he lay as you sat beside him, palm resting on his thigh.

"A fool is still a fool even when dressed in the King's robes."

Aegon scoffed, lifting his head as you saw his cock stir beneath his breeches. He liked this, the game of back and forth. It caused a thrum in his veins. "That was not kind of you, little one. I ought to punish you for it."

You raised your brows as you tilted your head to the side. "Punish me?" you repeated with a light-hearted sneer. "It should be you. What you say is treason."

"Perhaps," the Prince needled with a mischievous lilt to his tone. "Or I am simply stating what the realm is thinking. You truly believe a woman can ascend the Iron Throne?"

Your nails dug into his thigh at the insult, nearly piercing through the fabric and making crescent indents on the skin. Aegon hollered in protest as he sat upright in an attempt to remove you, your hand snaking from his leg to his crotch, gripping his hardening shaft meanly.

"Now, who put those ideas into that thick little head of yours, Aegon?" you jeered and moved to straddle his thigh. "Was it indeed from eavesdropping?"

His breath audibly hitched, the notch nestled within his throat bobbing as he watched you meticulously unlace his trousers. The Prince's lip tucked itself between his teeth as you revealed his half-hard cock, lazily stroking the thick shaft to its full height. The pearlescent liquid slowly began to leak from the tip; unable to stop your tongue from poking out and licking it, Aegon released a groan.

"I asked you a question, dull boy. 'Tis rude not to answer," you taunted from below, your chin resting on his pelvis as you peered up at him.

Aegon's legs bowed under your strokes as his hips lifted slightly from the mattress. The poor thing couldn't handle your feather-light touches to his sensitive cock, fingers dragging up his blue-green veins. His head tilted back as the wet flesh of your tongue licked across the tip once more.

Something wicked came to mind as you saw the Prince bite his lip, brows pinched together, and cheeks tinged pink from the attention. He was inside his body, his mind entirely caught in his feelings. He did not see your cruel grin as you sat upright, shifting your weight off him.

"Since you are so keen on the idea of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, there is no need for me anymore," you declared flippantly.

Aegon righted himself faster than you had ever seen, the throbbing between both your legs forgotten as his face fell in confused desperation. He looked so helpless in that moment, slouched, arms between his thighs as his manhood twitched angrily. It was almost enough to make you fold, but not quite. You needed to do this for the kingdom to stop a civil war before it happened and for yourself.

You were now uncertain if the time came for battle; you could carry the executioner's blade to the eldest son. And if you could not enact justice, you feared what Aegon would become. There would be no guiding light and only unlimited power at his grasp. You understood that now he had a taste of your love, the sweet nectar that ran through your veins. He would stop at nothing to have it always.

"Well, since you are to become king I believe you will not need me anymore," you repeated with an airy finality in your voice. Aegon observed with horror across his features as you went to the door of your chambers. "You'll have your pick of the finest whores in the Seven Kingdoms, and an army of willing maidservants at your disposal. What use am I to you now?"

Your fingers danced over the brass handle as you listened for the rustling of sheets and hurried footfalls. It was wrong of you to toy with Aegon this way, yet it didn't weigh on your conscience. He was easy to guide with the proper directions, like a mule with a carrot on a string.

"My sweet, it was only a thought. A simple jest of an idea," the Prince beseeched, holding his trousers in an attempt at modesty. "You know that I love you far more than any vice."

As you spoke, you slowly retreated from the door, your hand lowering to your side. "But I know the truth of men. They are animals. They see a shiny thing, and then an even shiner, more beautiful thing comes along, and suddenly that first thing is nothing but a tarnished object."

Hearing the noiseless scoff of Aegon, you turned, your fists clasped behind your back as you tilted your countenance to his level. His eyes were a puddle of ametrine. Blonde brows furrowed together in an anxious expression.

The assured confidence you once held began to erode the longer you stared at his watery gaze and pouted lips. How could you continue with the charade of apathy when he looked so... so helpless? The spoiled Prince who drank and fucked as he pleased was gone, and in his stead was a fragile, pathetic boy, begging with a quivering chin for an ounce of your affection. It was like a blade to the heart. Who were you to deny the pleadings of a wanting child?

"I know you love me, sweetling," you cupped Aegon's pudgy cheeks, and he blossomed, tilting into your soft touch, "but men are flawed creatures. They cannot help themselves when given ceaseless power. I will be nothing but a pretty memory if you become king."

"Then I won't!" the Prince shouted desperately, begging for his life. "I am not fit to rule, my Mother knows it. So does my Father. He would've named me heir years ago if he wanted me so."

Your stare broke from his, brown orbs flitting away to gaze at the wrinkled sheets. Shame gnawed into your mind like the teeth on your lip, nearly breaking your facade.

"You truly love me enough to turn away the crown?" The words sounded like a plead more than an inquiry, your voice mirroring his own.

"Yes! I swore an oath to you, my love. I pledged my heart and soul to be yours and only yours." You returned your vision to his, eyes flicking to the mole on his chin, lips, and eyes again. "I will be yours until my last breath, as you will be mine."

You smiled, head tilting in blissful relief. "Not every man is as strong as you, Aegon, strong enough to turn away power." Your hand trailed from his cheek to his neck, your fingers barely wrapping around the pale flesh. "I believe you deserve to feel the depth of my appreciation for such a selfless act."

The Prince's tongue swiped across his lip, knees becoming weak as you gave him a serene smile, gaze hooded. He was helpless against you. From the moment he saw you in the alley behind Madam's, brown and violet orbs staring back at him, an annoyed expression on your face as your girlish hands collected the apples from the flagstone, he knew you were his.

Aegon tried to forget the meeting when it happened. How foolish he felt now for doing so, but you stayed with him wherever he went.

The years back then were a blur, nothing but figures and outlines for memories, yet he remembered you. He remembered the girl with the same lilac in her dark eyes as his, the white streak in her hair that resembled his own. He couldn't rid you in the weeks leading up to Daemon's arrival, frequenting your caregiver's house more than ever, hoping for a glimpse of your girlish form.

It was fate that brought you together. Aegon didn't believe in the Gods, yet when you were placed before him with rags for clothes and dried locks from the harsh soap you used, he felt it was destiny. A divine force put you in his path, and he thanked whichever one it was every moment.

Your gaze flicked to the Prince's parted mouth, chest rising and falling too fast to be typical as your lips met his. He devoured your kiss as if it was his first meal, your essence bursting over his tongue as your fingers tightened around his throat.

When you finally pulled away, teeth dragging over the soft flesh of his lip as he met your gaze, your pupils dilated in want. Aegon chased after you in search of that feeling, but you leaned out of reach, failing to hide the smirk on his sullen face. You merely grinned in response, your hand traveling to brush back the stray locks of white that fell over his pink ears.

"You are such a good boy, Aegon. So good to me. I want to show you how proud I am of you."

Aegon died in that moment, ascending to the Seven Heavens, and before him stood an angel singing hymns of praise. He hadn't known how long he waited for someone to say those words to him. The Prince was putty in your hands. He would do anything you asked of him if only you would praise him more.

Slowly, you sunk to your knees, Aegon observing you intensely as you gazed back, a particular look in your eyes. It had been moons since you took his cock in your mouth and felt the heavy weight of his shaft and the salty taste of his seed down your throat. You had hidden the enjoyment of the action when you previously did it, denying yourself the happiness you now believed you deserved.

His breeches were still untied, and his member still hard, a bit of his spend dried on the silt as you took him in your hand. The flat of your tongue wet the milky droplet, tasting like you remembered. The action kindled the fire through your veins, and you rubbed your thighs to alleviate it.

You gave Aegon a few experimental pumps to ensure he was ready, his head tilting back in response as he gulped. You licked languid stripes up his shaft, lips wrapping around his cockhead at the end before you released it with a final pop. His digits went into your hair, smoothing it back for purchase and seeing your face unobscured. Each time you moved, the Prince was near ecstasy, legs trembling and jaw tensed as you accumulated your saliva, dribbling it onto him.

You were far better than any whore he had ever had. Aegon understood you lacked the apparent skill that came with experience, yet it was far more pleasurable than even the most veteran woman he laid with. He did not have the connection to them that he did with his little Princess, her mere presence enough to set his blood ablaze.

Your mouth engulfed Aegon's cock, jaw having to unhinge more than expected to accommodate his girth. It felt wonderful to finally have him inside you again, though you much preferred it in another place, a moan vibrating into his hips as his fingers pulled at your roots.

You slowly took him further, lips covering your teeth as the wet muscles of your mouth stroked him. The muscles in Aegon's stomach tightened as he attempted to stave off his premature release, wanting to feel the pleasure of your mouth for as long as he was able. You were a little more than halfway before his tip hit your throat, momentarily gagging at the foreign intrusion.

Hand gripping Aegon's thigh, you relaxed, closing your eyes as you puffed air through your nose and took him to the hilt. It was his favorite thing, the feeling of his cock entirely inside you. It nearly sent him over a cliff and crashing to the ground below, but he halted, gripping your hair harshly enough to make you whine.

"Fuck," he hissed, grounding himself in the feeling that was you.

You smiled around him as much as allowed, proud that you could reduce a Prince of the Realm to a wanton mess. A gush of slick coated your small clothes at the realization, retreating until only your lips were left around his leaking tip.

You inhaled a deep breath through your nostrils as your gaze flicked to meet his in quiet assurance. Hooded purple eyes met yours, light brown lashes fluttering as you began to bob back and forth with the rhythm of your fist. Aegon appeared as if he was about to crumble, his brows pinched together and lips pursed.

You felt dominion over the Prince despite being in a position of weakness, on your knees, the display a show of subjugation, yet you held all the power. If you felt inclined, you could ruin him, stop your ministrations at any moment, and leave him denied of his release, mind swirling with thoughts of rejection and self-hatred. But you were not cruel despite what the Court said. Those who suffered your wrath were deserving of it. You had rage, but you were not bestial.

Aegon punctuated your thoughts with a harsh snap of his hips as his manhood collided with the back of your throat, gagging. Your eyes became slits, humming in disapproval, grabbing his stones and pinching them meanly. The Prince whimpered, knees knocking and attempting to regain composure with his sturdy grip locked in your hair.

He felt a mixture of patheticness along with his arousal, the two emotions creating an intoxicating mix of pleasure and self-loathing. He would not have it any other way so long as it were you. Your touch made him crumble, an impuissant mess of a boy rather than a man. Aegon would take whatever you gave him with a broad smile and eager, open arms.

You released Aegon with a rugged gasp of air, your hand hastening to make up for the departure of your mouth.

"My sweet boy," you cooed from below, licking your lips before attacking his cock once more. "My good boy. You deserve this, don't you? You have been exceptional to me, denying the crown like a favorable and obedient son. You care for me, do you not?" you badgered rhetorically, continuing your assault as you licked the underside of his shaft. "Yes, you do." Your mouth latched onto his balls, the soft skin molding around it, causing him to hurdle toward the cliff. "Good boys who love me get to peak. Are you a good boy?"

Aegon nodded fervently as if the very fate of the realm depended on his answer, and perhaps it did. "I asked you a question, Aegon. Good little brat princes answer me. Now, tell me," you spat onto his member, some saliva splattering onto the fine dusting of hairs at his base, "are you a good little boy?"

"Yes!" he shouted, the words traveling to the heavens above. "Yes, yes, yes! I'm a good boy. I'm your good boy. I love you." He groaned, chin tucking into his chest as he watched you pleasure him with focused determination. "Please -fuck- please let me come. I want to come for you so bad."

Tears were pouring from his amethyst orbs that you hadn't noticed, his emotions too intense to keep hidden. It brought another wave of mind-numbing arousal through your body to have Aegon such a blubbering mess, begging you to let him peak.

"You are my good boy, that's right, and good boys get to come wherever they want."

It appeared like Aegon was going to combust, your words moments away from sending him over the edge, but he withheld, managing to grunt out, "face" before his seed covered your flesh.

Ropes of his spend painted your face, eyes shut and grinning with satisfaction as you pumped him through his high. Each splash of warmth to your cheeks brought further gratification to your features, your countenance becoming a welcoming canvas for Aegon's devotion, his peak sliding down the column of your throat.

His stomach tensed, nearly doubling over as your touch began to burn, the pleasure becoming painful until you ceased. The Prince's cock throbbed, the thumping in his chest matching the beat in between his legs as he watched his spend drip from your cheeks.

What a beautiful site, Aegon thought, but what a waste of seed. He longed for the chance to have his babe quicken in your womb, a princeling or little Princess with his eyes and your hair causing mayhem in the halls of the Red Keep. What a thing that would be, more dark-haired children within the House of The Dragon. His Mother would keel over at the sight. The idea did not seem too far off as he wiped the pearlescent droplets from your eyes, gaze flicking to your abdomen.

"Your beauty is bewitching. 'Tis a wonder how I lead myself from temptation." You beamed, head resting in Aegon's palm as you stood, leaning into his devouring lips.

"You flatter me, my love, but you have a true beauty," you replied, still having difficulty accepting his compliments. "Your eyes are the color of lavender, hair the moon, skin softer than the finest silk." Your digits brushed his strands behind his ear, fingers resting and gaze boring into his. "You are my love. I will have no one else but you. Cursed be he who seeks to tear us asunder."

Reciting the oath of marriage before Aegon, he kissed you, swallowing your moan, a puff of air leaving his nose at the force.

"It should have been you who I was married to," he spoke noiselessly onto your skin. "I never wanted to wed Helaena. She is my sister."

You flash him an empathetic look, tracing the outline of his face. "She feels the same. I am sure of it."

Nodding, you lead the Prince to your wrinkled sheets, wrapping yourself in his embrace as you lay down. The lust between your thighs was still there, but one question raged in your mind, creating a cavernous feeling of anxiety.

What would happen if they forced Aegon onto the throne?

You were his strength yet also his weakness. Lord Otto and Queen Alicent could use his love for you if they found out and twist his thoughts until nothing was left but their schemes. You dreaded the inevitable discussion of this scenario with Aegon, but it did not feel as heavy as you believed it would. He loved you. You understood that now, but the haunting shadow of doubt and failure lurked within the corners of your mind.

"Aegon," you spoke, voice sounding smaller than intended, "what would happen if they tried to crown you even though you do not want it? What would become of us?" Tears pricked your eyes, unable to withhold your genuine emotions any longer.

"I will not let them. I shall die before they put us against each other. I will have no reason to continue without the only person who cares for me," he answered plainly, voice holding a finality.

You turned your head to meet his, the Prince's stare hard with determination. "I do not wish you to die for me. I want you to live for me." Aegon returned your gaze, tenderly mirroring your actions from earlier and tucking a lock of ebony hair behind your ear. "For as long as I exist, someone will love you."

He grinned crookedly, pecking your forehead. "What do you suggest we do, little dragon?" he asked, laying back onto your goose-down pillows.

"I have a notion of who could help us. I've spoken to her about this subject before, but if she is no longer willing..." you trailed off, doubt festering in your mind. "I will find a way or make one."

With a resolute purpose settling into your bones, you took a calming breath, curling into Aegon's side with a sigh. Time was of the essence. Viserys was living with the Stranger at his bedside, and at any hour, he could leave this plane, but for right now, at this moment, all that mattered was the fair-haired boy humming faintly in your ear.

***

Winter was at its peak, yet no snow fell, unlike Dragonstone. You received ravens from your family regularly, detailing their life back home. Jace's fifteenth nameday had passed, and Luke's fourteenth. You could not attend both small celebrations due to your Father's wishes. It hurt not to fly to see them; it would only take a day, but Daemon explained the precarity of the late-season months. The King's health declined, and the cold only worsened his condition.

These were the sacrifices you made for the good of your kin and the kingdom, and as any obedient child and daughter of the realm, you bore them with a stiff lip. Yet there were moments like this, your moonlit child resting in your lap as he gazed out of the library window. This made those sacrifices painless.

"At the time of the Rhoynish Wars, Nymeria ruled in Ny Sar. During the Second Spice War, Prince Garof Chroyane united the nobility in a grand alliance against the Valyrian Freehold," you read from the History of Rhoynish Wars by Beldecar.

"Only Princess Nymeria spoke against him, warning the other princes that they could not win the war. However, the other princes shouted her down and joined their strength to Prince Garin, and even Nymeria's own warriors were eager to join his cause."

It was inevitable that Aegon was not listening, his fingers fidgeting with the ring you gifted him his first nameday with you, but it was no bother. You knew that this was his only moment of peace from his duties, which he was tending to as of late. Otto unthinkingly took it as a sign that he was finally preparing to become the heir he and many of the lords wished him to be.

"Princess Nymeria led her fleet of ten thousand ships down the Rhoyne, past ruined towns and fields of corpses. To avoid Volantis and the dragonlords, Nymeria chose an older channel and emerged into the Summer Sea, where the city of Sarhoy once stood. The following voyage was long and gruesome, and more than a hundred ships sank in the first storm they encountered. More were taken by fear and turned back, only to be captured by slavers out of Volantis. Others fell behind or drifted away and were never seen again."

Aegon released a puff of hair, turning his neck into an awkward position to look at the hand-painted illustration of the Princess setting sail with her ships. "That seemed to work rather well for her in the end, didn't it? That's why you travel with dragons and not ships."

You threw a half-hearted scowl at him for his unappreciated anecdote. At least he was listening.

"For three years, Nymeria's fleet wandered the southern seas," you continued. "Nymeria led the Rhoynar first to the Basilisk Isles, where they were attacked by corsairs. She refused the corsairs' offer to settle on the Isle of Toads, and the Rhoynar continued on to Sothoryos, where they struggled to survive at Basilisk Point, Zamettar, and Yeen."

The timbre of voices outside the library doors stole you from your studies, confusion etching your features as to who would be speaking. Ser Erryk posted at the entrance like a sworn protector should, following the commands of Aegon that you should not be disturbed. Just as the voices came, they went, fading into the distance and your mind.

"After an unsuccessful year in Sothoryos, the Rhoynar set sail and travelled again, this time for three years. They were welcomed at Naath, but left when they became afflicted with a deadly illness on the isle. Nymeria led them next to Abulu in the Summer Islands, which became known after as the Isle of Women, but they were unable to grow enough food on the land there."

The Prince perked at that, a mischievous glint in his eyes as you shook your head. "Isle of Women? That has gotten your attention and not the act of a single woman leading a fleet of ten thousand ships?" He chuckled, responding with a flippant shrug, tilting his head and quickly pecking your lips as an apology for his boyish antics.

"After years of arduous journeys full of storms, disease, and slavery, Nymeria led the surviving Rhoynar to Dorne in southern Westeros. Some Rhoynish ships landed on the Stepstones or surrendered to slavers from Lys and Tyrosh, but the remaining ships landed at the mouth of the Greenblood in Dorne. Nymeria made common cause with..." You turned the page to find the next missing, torn from its spine.

Perplexed, you flipped the bleached parchment back and forth as if the missing piece would appear with enough persistence.

"Go on," Aegon said, removing the ring from his finger to inspect the glowing gem in the sunlight shining through the window panes.

You skimmed through the pages, hoping to find the missing words somewhere, but had no luck, letting out a huff of annoyance. "I cannot, Aegon. A page is missing."

He sat straight, glancing at the jump in history. "Well, it appears like she creates a war in Dorne," the Prince chortles, snatching the tome and placing it beside him. "It does not matter, little one. We already know of the history and I am sure there are plenty of books that are far more entertaining than that. Have you read the Loves of Queen Nymeria?"

Playfully rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms, your lips smirking downward as Aegon batted his eyelashes impishly. No matter his age, he would remain a newly bloomed lad with thoughts regarding that of raunchiness. It was one of the many attributes you adored of his, though many viewed it as a vice.

"I love you, my pet, despite your boyishness," teasing, you failed to hide the grin splitting your face. You could not be cross with him. You spent far too long denying yourself from feeling such a thing. Gods be damned if you allowed it to happen again.

Aegon scooted closer to you on the plush settee, forms barely a centimeter apart as you became one, mouths ravenous for each other. You were unsure when you began to miss his touches, the caress of his lips on yours. It left you breathless and filled with indescribable joy within your gut. You wanted to be one with him, one heart, one body, one mind, one soul. You wished towed before the Seven, your hands bound and palms touching.

It was not something you would have, you realized with great melancholy. The threat of Dalton Greyjoy's proposal still hung cumbersomely over your heart, mind running out of witty things and excuses to give him before he grew tired of your procrastination.

Aegon relinquished your tongues from their dance with a sharp breath, hand traveling up the expanse of your thigh, clothed in a thick layer of swirled nacreous fabric until he reached the filleted embroidery of your bodice. His thumb gingerly caressed the area where your bud would poke, peppering kisses down your neck.

The doors to the library opened, abruptly ending the Prince's assault on your skin. You both glanced at Ser Erryk, annoyed, Aegon refusing to pull away in the presence of one who swore to keep his secrets.

"Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace, but the Queen wishes to speak with you both."

Aegon slowly retreated, missing the warmth you radiated in these icy months. "Eck," he scoffed with ire, sliding a respectable distance away. "Let her come."

As soon as the knight left, Queen Alicent appeared, a grim look on her heart-shaped features and fists clasped together with raw cuticles. "What is it you wish to say, Mother? I am currently studying the life of Queen Nymeria. Did you know she led an army of ten thousand to Dorne?"

"Yes. I did, my son," the Queen nodded primly. "She married Mors Martell soon after she landed."

"Ah," you acknowledged, swiftly attempting to end the increasing tension between the pair, "that is who she wed. A page was missing from the tome, as if someone tore it."

Alicent's gaze quickly went to the opened book on the settee, large chestnut eyes welling with unnamed emotions. She stared far longer than necessary as you and Aegon shared a questioning look. You shifted, ankles crossing just as your Septa taught you before she finally fixed her sights on your unsuspecting form.

"I have matters I would like to discuss with the Princess," she suddenly stated, a shadow casting over her face, "if you will allow me, my son." The title sounded unused and stiff, Alicent's knuckles turning pale.

Aegon opened his mouth to disagree, but you stopped him with a reassuring smile and nod. He reluctantly stood, his dissent evident. "As you wish, Mother."

He stood, dusting off his wrinkled trousers as he cast you one last glance. Seeing no regret, the Prince exited but did not stray far, slouching against the wall beside Ser Cargyll.

"What did you wish to discuss with me, my Queen?" you inquired politely, back straight and pearl necklace glinting in the light.

She flashed a forced smile, appearing more like a grimace as she sat at the other end of the furniture. The piece was slightly longer than your height, but the distance between you felt like an age. Alicent's vision was misty as she observed your features.

Your style choices differed significantly from when you first arrived at the keep. Typical Targaryen reds and blacks were now switched to those creams and gold, and Dragonglass Valyrian steel jewelry was replaced with elaborate chains of diamonds, rubies, and pearls. It was lavish for her taste, too yellow and grand, unlike her pious green. It seemed like something Aegon would wear. Her expression soured at the idea.

"You have been here for some time, yes?" The Queen began, your face etched with unasked questions. "And in turn you have grown close to my son."

You nodded solemnly but with hesitancy. Where was this headed?

"You know that I discovered his affections when I requested your aid for his twentieth nameday. While I can never repay you for preventing the embarrassment his absence would've brought, I do believe that your allowance in serving on the King's Small Council is enough," she said, words Alicent had swallowed vomiting past her lips.

Having an idea of what she was slowly getting towards, your mood changed. You crossed your arms displeasedly, no longer confused and open to the conversation.

"You have missed much of your brothers' ascent into maturity. Jacaerys and Lucerys are nearly men now, and I do not want you to feel obligated to stay here and live without them," the Queen expressed. It was false sincerity. "After all, our kin is all we have."

Unable to hide your scoff, you stood, rolling your eyes as you faced Alicent. "Unlike you, I do not enjoy the pomp and circumstance of courtly talk. 'Tis better to yank the rooting tooth instead of waiting for it to decay. Speak plainly so that we may not prolong this more than necessary," you declared with squared shoulders.

Alicent cleared her throat, shifting her weight and briefly fidgeting with the golden Seven-Pointed Star enveloping her throat.

This is what she despised about you, Targaryens. There was no tact, no appreciation for what separated the nobles from the small folk. Where was your sense of duty? Simple manners and a correctly placed smile could do far more than the threat of steel.

"I had hoped we could discuss this with more propriety, but I see that is something you Targaryens do not understand," she spat. Her poisonous words shot through your heart, momentarily stopping it and widening your eyes into a dumbfounded expression. "You must leave King's Landing. Your presence here is not a welcomed one if it indeed was."

You took her words as a challenge, a threat from an opponent. If you were on the battlefield, the glint of metal and blade slash would have stopped the Queen from finishing. She was fortunate that she was married to the king.

"You do not have the authority to send me away, Alicent," you snarled, losing all respect for her title. "What would your husband, the King, say should he discover you're attempting to exile his daughter's ward?"

She brushed off the thought, large brown eyes staring up at you with an unaffected disdain, as if you were nothing more than the slop underneath her finely crafted shoes. "There is no need for you now that Rhaenyra has promised to return on dragonback. I suggest you go to your chambers and alert the servants of your departure," she sighed, rising from the plush cushions in finality. "It is best we do this in a timely manner so as not to cause any unnecessary attention."

Your stare narrowed, lips pursing as you stepped toward the Queen. "Unnecessary attention? You mean for me to leave like a rat in the night so your son will not know."

Alicent should have expected this reaction. It was in her nature to hope for the good within people, yet time and time again, she was proven there was none.

"I shall not leave King's Landing nor will I ever. Aegon is my kin and someone I hold dear. I will never abandon those I love."

You shouted with much conviction, and it nearly swayed Alicent into believing you, but she knew better. She knew you had no love for her child; you were using him. You were an extension of Daemon and his ambitions. At a time, she pitied you for it, seeing a reflection of herself, but that softness had hardened under the realization that your actions affected her child.

"You people do not know of love," she laughed coldly. "Duty is love. Obedience is love. I will not allow your rot to afflict my son as Rhaenyra did me. You will leave King's Landing by order of the Queen."

Alicent missed the slip of her words until a blanket of silence covered the library. She said something no one was ever to hear, not even Rhaenyra. It was something she denied in the early years of her girlhood when days were packed with nothing but the yellow sun in the sky and silver hair in her fingers. What had she done?

What had she done?

Your steps were calculated as you stood barely a pace away from the Queen. It made sense now why your Mother would be unable to meet your gaze when you brought up Alicent, why the Queen would speak in such a way that left you puzzled. They were in love, at least at one point in time. You were unsure if either of them knew what the other felt or if they understood what that love was.

The overzealous religious imagery of the Keep was Alicent's guilt for what the gospel preached as a sin from the Seven. You almost felt sympathetic for her, but her projection of the inner turmoil she had inside turned into your punishment. You had no sympathy.

"Love can often be mistaken for hate," you spoke. It was something you knew far better than most.

The Queen balked at your words, still reeling at the notion of her confession and the potential consequences that would arise from them. You were not cruel. Even to those who deserved it, you now realized as you bid farewell.

"I shall reside in King's Landing until my Mother acends the Iron Throne, and even then, I will still be here," you proclaimed with your chin held high, Knowing she could not protest. "Good day, Your Grace."

And with a definitive curtsy, head and knees dipping low in mock reverence, you exited the library, book long forgotten as it lay open to the torn page.

Masterlist of Series

I totally did not fall asleep while posting this and then wondered why no one interacted with the post. XD

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unicorncornflakes · 10 months

Text

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 11

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Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows to this story. Thank you so much :D

Word Count: 5K

"There are certain situations where she doesn't need you ",Helaena spoke harshly after being interrupted by Aemond for the third time while speaking in whispers with her mother. Alicent looked at her son, who was sitting at the kitchen island while his older sister and her mother talked about something that had happened to you, and they didn't want to share it with him. That summer, you were twelve years old. They had both been gossiping about you since Aemond had come home from work and hadn't seen you once, not even in the pool, and that was your favourite part of the house. The place where you would sleep if they let you.

"I don't know what's wrong with her, but she always needs me. She is my little dragon," Aemond replied as Helaena narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Aemond could become too demanding with you when you were at the family home in the summers.

"Believe me, Aemond, I don't think you can help her this time," said her mother as she poured herself a cold tea. It was Alicent's favourite drink, and she could still drink it with sugar back then before the doctor forbade her to do so.

"Why not?" he asked, annoyed, and Helaena jumped up angrily.

"Okay, great. Are you going to get pads at the supermarket, or will you teach her how to put in a tampon?" she blurted out, not wanting to continue arguing with her brother and how nosy he could be when it came to you. Aemond swallowed hard, almost pale. He didn't say anything. "Okay, well, that's what I expected. I'm going to buy the pads myself," Helaena replied, picking up the car keys she had left on the island.

Alicent looked at her son with concern. He seemed to have frozen at such a revelation. The truth is that your grandmother could not stop thinking that it was the worst thing that could have happened to you.

Those things were essential for your grandmother, a moment when you should be with your mother and have her explain things to you. She surely had already done it, but still, she didn't know how you had taken it. You had only gone up to your Aunt Helaena that morning and told her in a whisper, all blushing. Luckily, Aemond was at work at the time, as was Daeron, and your father hadn't been seen returning from last night's revelry. Luckily, you had only had your grandmother as a witness for such an embarrassing moment. You had told your aunt because, according to your mother, if something like that happened to you at your father's house, the most logical option was Helaena. Your mother had explained to you that later it was Alicent who you could inform and that she would understand. Afterwards, if none of them were there, your Uncle Daeron seemed the most sensible of your mother's choices. Aemond was next to last on the list since there was only one option in your mother's head where he would tell you something offensive about the nature of women. Lastly, your father, who your mother knew would not be there present and also would not know how to handle the situation.

And so, with a list of who contact in the event that you started your period while you were there, your first period had arrived during a summer vacation at your father’s house during a time when your parents had joint custody. Your mother couldn't imagine a worse scenario, but it had been, and now it was Helaena's turn to take care of something so delicate, much to your aunt's chagrin.

Aemond remained silent, looking at the stone on the island, almost not knowing what to do in this moment. It was clear that this was going to be the last summer you were his little girl, and he couldn't be more horrified. Now you would start talking about boys, putting on makeup, and hanging out with your friends. You would no longer have time for him or to play Scrabble together, much less to stay with him watching TV until late. He felt like a father when he had to say goodbye to that happy period of childhood. And the worst thing was that Aemond didn't think he could say anything to comfort you. It was impossible. What did he know about those things? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He felt useless saying goodbye to his little soul. The good harmony had ended between the two and…

"Aemond, I don't know what you're thinking, but could you please come upstairs and see if she's okay? She has locked herself in the room and hasn't come out since this morning", his mother informed him, but Aemond just looked at her defiantly.

"And what am I going to say to encourage her?" he asked his mother, almost desperate for the changes that were going to happen in your relationship; at least inAemond's imagination, they had already happened.

"It is not about you encouraging her. It's about you supporting her," Alicent told him, and Aemond sighed. His mother was right. He should always be there for you. You were his little dragon.

"My stomach hurts", Aemond heard you speak in the room. Just when he went up the stairs and was in front of your door, slightly open, he heard you sob lightly. And he passed his hand over his face in a gesture of disgust. How was he going to deal with that? He preferred a meeting with all the supporters of Daemon's administration. That was easy. This was not. "I just don't feel well, Mom", he heard you say again. Okay, so you were talking to your mom. Through the small opening in the door, Aemond saw that you were lying on the bed, wearing your pyjamas and looking as if you hadn't slept all night. He was worried about seeing you in a bad shape and opened the door. You looked at him as if he was the last person you wanted to see, embarrassed and said a quick goodbye to your mother. "Aemond", you greeted him as he approached the bed to sit next to you while you also sat up in pain next to him on the bed.

"I was wondering if you needed something," he said without looking at you, with the patch off; when you were little, you liked to see him like that. He wondered if you still found him nice or if you were already like the others, but that didn't last long in his mind as a concern. He had to take care of you, he had to protect you, even though he had no idea how to do it.

"Uhm… no, I'm fine," you replied, sitting down next to him. "I've watched the last episode of Samurai Jack, and…" you began, and Aemond smiled at you for continuing to worry, but he quickly changed the subject. His mission was now supposed to be to fill in for Aegon.

"Grandma told me what's wrong with you and... I was wondering if you needed something," he snapped at you, almost regretting what he had said when you made a funeral face, almost like a brutal change in such a small face.

"No, I'm fine," you said in a breath, grabbing your knees, changing your position. Aemond had observed that it was the same position you used when you felt bad, and it was something that really worried him. It wasn't healthy for you to always take that stance.

"Okay, um… Has your mother talked to you about what happens now?" he said, scratching his head, almost remembering the lack of any kind of sex education in his house. He didn't want to be like that, he had realized that he wanted to be there for you.

"What happens now?" you said, almost scared, your eyes widening, and Aemond felt again that he had screwed up.

"Well... about the changes in the body and how babies are made and..." he began listing. You opened your mouth in a gesture of disbelief as if you didn't believe your favourite uncle was capable of talking about such intimate things, not even with you nor with anyone. It almost seemed comical, although you could feel the burden inside him.

"Please, yes, Aemond. Mom has told me all those things," you almost yelled until blushing.

“That´s good” he sighed with relief. A half smile appeared on his face. You would become quite a woman, and he would always be there for you. He imagined you following in his footsteps. He was beginning to accept that what was happening to you was the law of life and that perhaps this new stage would not be so bad. Above all, he thought about it when he saw your face of disgust before a subject as delicate as that one.

"Please, let's never talk about it again because I'm not going to kiss anyone ever, ever", you declared emphatically, hugging your pillow, and Aemond just laughed.

"You say that now, my little dragon," he told you while he got up from the bed with a smile and looked at you with his only good eye while the other one continued static.

"I promise," you said, hugging the pillow even more as if that would ease the pain in some way.

"Don't promise me things you won't be able to keep," he ruffled your hair with a smile. You would always remember such a beautiful smile, so captivating.

"It's true," you told him, convinced. At that moment, your eyes reflected tremendous sorrow, and you spoke with a trembling voice, almost afraid to verbalize what scared you the most in the world. "Tell me that you will continue to love me even if I get older", you said, scared, almost as if you were afraid of losing Aemond because of getting older. You couldn't lose the only person who showed you some affection in your father's house.

"I will always love you, (Y / N)" Aemond sighed, and his heart broke to see you like this. "You will continue to be you, no matter what." He said, trying to reassure you, and he caressed your shoulder in a protective gesture. Aemond would always be the best uncle in the world to you.

"Thank you", you smiled calmly and happily. Aemond saw how your whole body relaxed. A new stage in your relationship began.

"Then my task here is finished. My planet needs me," he teased as he let go of your shoulder and turned to leave.

"Noooo, don't go. We have to watch the latest episode of Samurai Jack. Together," you begged him with a feigned pout. You would always need him. Always.

"Why do you tell me what happens in the middle of the chapter? No, thanks," he declared theatrically as you rose from the bed to follow him.

"I promise not to spoil it. Pinkie promise." You ran to get in front of him, even though the cramps were running through your lower belly. You were starting to think that period thing was bullshit. However, you stopped thinking and just offered him your pinky finger raised up.

"Alright. Pinkie promise," he offered you his little finger, and you intertwined it like you always did with him, the only person who did that kind of lovely simple nonsense. And Aemond sighed with relief. He thought things would never change between you. Targaryens never take into account their own blood drive.

Aemond entered the house after a long day at work. He needed you. It was what he was thinking while he walked the hall. That day he had booked a hotel room. Again you would spend the afternoon together. You would soothe him while he told you about his day. You would make love. He would take you to a nice restaurant. You would be happy.

He heard your happy laugh, and he smiled unconsciously. Then he heard a laugh from his brother, too, and that made him worry. Aegon had never cared about you; what were you doing laughing with him?

"What are you doing?" Aemond burst into the hall. You looked at him with a radiant smile, and your father next to you had a stupid smile painted on his lips. Both sitting on the sofa. You, with your computer on your legs, wanted to jump to hug Aemond and kiss him. But you controlled yourself. You just greeted him with a beautiful smile while he left his briefcase on one of the chairs. No one in that house could ever know about you. Your attention on him was short-lived, however, and you looked back at the laptop. You were beautiful, so full of happiness, with his pendant around your neck as always. You were his, simply his, forever. That necklace would prove it to anyone.

"We're finishing enrollment for Sunspear School of the Arts," you explained, and then your father pointed out a subject on the screen that seemed interesting to him, who had no idea about anything. And you laughed. You were grateful for that moment between the two of you. However, just as you laughed with your father, Aemond's face darkened, and he left the room without a sound. No doubt he thought things were going to be different.

Aemond made one last thrust and emitted a muffled moan. His eye closed in a grimace of pleasure while the other remained open and static, almost as if he was watching you. You felt his cock vibrate inside you. The hot seed flooded you. You made a pleasurable moan just below him and kept moving your hips in circles, almost as if inviting him to continue fucking. He had already climaxed and just looked at you seriously as he pulled away from you and sat on the edge of the bed.

Your smile disappeared, and your whole face twisted into a worried grimace. Aemond always hugged you right after making love. He hugged you tightly while you leaned on his chest. However, that day he just lit his cigarette, and he didn't even look at you, smoking with his back to you. The truth is that he had been serious all day, but you had justified it by telling yourself that he had a lot of stress from the intense and endless days at work. You thought that after getting laid in that hotel room that he always booked on Thursday afternoons, he would feel better. It hadn't been like that.

"Surely there is something I can do to ease my dragon", you whispered in his ear, just after slipping between the sheets and sticking your body to his back while your arms wrapped around his neck. You wanted to see him like you normally did in those encounters, not terribly angry and distant with you. That day you were just happy. Very happy. You had finished applying for admission to Sunspear School of the Arts; what more could you ask for? Nothing. Were you happy? That was all. You just wanted Aemond to share that happiness with you.

"I'm going to take a shower." That was all he said, pulling out of your embrace, not even looking at you. Showers always meant that you were leaving, that your only time together like that was over. And that already broke your heart as you saw him go to the shower. Alone. Without heading towards you. The tension could be felt. You realized that that time he hadn't kissed you even once while you were fucking, and you couldn't help thinking that it was all your fault. You felt your heart race as if you knew something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, almost nervous, still sitting on the bed like a jilted and abandoned lover. He just turned and looked at you with a shrug.

"I don't know. You tell me: Is everything alright?" he responded arrogantly as if his ego was hard for him to admit that he was hurt. He could never admit how very, very hurt he was with you at that moment. Your eyes simply reflected concern, sorrow and bewilderment. What was happening?

"I- I don't know. You are different. Today you've been weird all day," you confessed, almost on the verge of tears, as if you were afraid of losing him after all.

"Maybe if the person you love wants to get away from you, you would be like that too," he told you coldly, fixing his only eye on you. And your whole world fell apart. This was all because of…

"I'm not going far. It's just Sunspear," you replied, trying to defend yourself. You looked elsewhere, trying to suppress the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Like it was High Garden. It's away from me. It's not something I find funny," he confessed to you again without giving in. He wasn't going to give up. He felt abandoned by you. He was going to be left without what he had fought so hard against, even himself. You left him to continue your life, while he stayed only after taking a fundamental step. After this step, he would never be the same again.

"You could come to see me," you said, almost hurt by his words, and you remembered how Cregan had encouraged you, how he told you he was going to Sunspear. Aemond almost seemed the opposite.

"Okay," he replied with a shrug, turning back to go to the bathroom.

"Aemond, please, I just want to talk about it," you told him, getting up from the bed, almost scared to lose him like that. He simply stared,stirred as if he couldn't take it anymore.

"We've already talked about it, haven't we?" he answered you, terribly angry. He wanted to hit something, but he wouldn't; he was always in control. He never lost his temper. "You are going to leave, and I am going to stay here. That's all I know."

"What do you want from me, Aemond?" you almost begged him, desperate not to see him like this, and he just grabbed your face and kissed you angrily. You could feel all the frustration that his lips had while he kept kissing you hard. At the end of the kiss, he was only honest with you. And selfish, terribly selfish, but he had never had anything for himself. You were his, all of him. He couldn't lose you. His hard-won throne meant nothing if you didn't sit quietly in the shadows beside him.

"Stay in King's Landing. That is all I ask of you. Stay with me," he whispered to you almost desperately, without letting go of your face from his iron grip. His forehead resting on yours. A sad smile on his face. And you sighed, almost broken to see him so desperate for you to leave his side. "You can be happy here, study a degree at the university here," he explained without letting go, but he separated his face just so you could see how he explained a plan that was infinitely better for him. "I still have contacts in the faculty; they could admit you even if the deadlines are already closed." He told you again, with a wide smile on his face. He had found the solution for both of them, for him. Just for him.

"But, I have already filled out the application for Sunspear, and my father has paid for it today," you said sadly, trying to hold on to your dream, but Aemond just continued his arguments, desperate for you to stay with him. He needed you much more than he wanted to admit.

"We can lose that money. We have plenty. You would continue living at home, and in the afternoons, we would go out as we do now, and even Aegon would be happier," the mere mention of your father hurt you. What was going on? Why was he doing this to you? "You and I. Together." He returned to counterattack, and you did not respond. You just wanted to not lose Aemond. Your family's heraldry necklace has never weighed so heavily on your neck.

It was your birthday. It was something Aemond would never forget. Although, his mother, his sister and Daeron had reminded him all the time that morning. Another year, he would have been the one to remind everyone, but this was not another year. It was the day you came of age; it was the year in which he had been haunted almost every night by a feverish dream in which you appeared night after night, naked, advancing towards him, who was waiting for you more than willing in his bed. You rode him like a dragon and called yourself a Dragon Rider. He would be your dragon; he would be whenever you wanted him.

He hated himself. You were his niece. His niece. His niece. And nothing more. Nothing else. He didn't want to accept what was happening to him with you. He would never accept. He would never do it. He had to distance himself, and what better distance than not to congratulate you that day? He knew that he would hurt you, but by doing so, he was preventing both of you from turning into monsters. He looked at the phone, sitting in his office. Saw your last status. It was you with your friends in some ridiculous bar in Starfall, another photo with more friends, and another with your mother. You thanked everyone who had congratulated you, and he wasn't even among them, but he just couldn't. He never could. He had to distance himself. Distances."Alys, can you come here for a minute?" He asked his secretary, and she entered his office, closing the door behind her. He was the responsible adult. He was the one who had to distance himself from you, even if that was causing him more pain than expected.

"Waiting for your one-eyed boyfriend to congratulate you?" Your uncle Gerold, your mother's older brother, broke the silence as he drove to your maternal grandfather's house. They were all waiting for you there to celebrate your birthday party with your entire maternal family and your friends and, as Gerold said, without a single dragon bothering you. You narrowed your eyes angrily at the attitude of the most irreverent of all your mother's brothers.

"I don't like you addressing Brynden like that," you said rudely, dropping the phone on your lap. Your uncle smiled. Violet eyes. Aquiline nose. Marked jaw and silver hair, divided by a black lock. The future heir to your grandfather's oil kingdom, much to his regret. At another time, Gerold's nicknames would have amused you. Theat day of your birthday was not that moment. You were just mad, mad and sad because it was eight o'clock in the evening and Aemond hadn't congratulated you. They had all done it, even your father. Everyone except the one you really cared about. "Also, he congratulated me this morning as I woke up. I already had a message from him", you replied, picking up the phone again and looking desperately at the screen.

"Who, stoat?" he asked, turning to look at you with a mischievous smile. "You know I don't mean that boy. I like him quite well. He's an asshole, but he's the kind of asshole I like," he laughed at his own quip and kept driving. You looked up from the phone again and just looked at him strangely, wrinkling your face while he kept laughing. "Okay, keep pretending. I don't care," he shrugged.

"I don't know who you're talking to me about," you told him angrily, fed up with his mouth always full of insults. Your older uncle, your father figure in Starfall, always had something for everyone, all the time.

"Of course, you haven't been on edge all day because he hasn't deigned to call you," he said sardonically. "That asshole thinks you have the eyes of adragon but believe me. Genetics is a bitch, and you gouged out my eyes. My eyes. Sorry for those sad fucking dragons, but you're a Dayne. (Y/N) Dayne, it does sounds better than (Y/N) Targaryen. Much better." At that moment, you realized that he was talking about Aemond and looked out the window, slightly flushed.

"Aemond is my uncle, just like you," you told him, looking out the window at that sunset in Starfall, the beach in the background, right next to the road. "And today, he will have a lot of work to do", you tried to justify, and Gerold laughed. He laughed like he did every time you said something stupid. He always thought he was the smartest in that place.

"Come on, (Y/N), Just like me? Oh, really?" he said, laughing even more. "I wouldn't lean you against the first smooth surface I came across. It doesn't even cross my mind, and you would much less let yourself."

"You are disgusting!" you yelled at him, almost indignant, and he laughed even harder. "In what sick mind does that fit?"

"In the mind of someone sick, of course, but I, unlike others, see what others refuse to see. He is in love with you, and you are with him. It is a reality," he confessed to you, stopping the car at the speed bump. He looked at you, the only understanding look you were ever going to have in your life on that subject. "Look, (Y/N), I am not a good example of anything, and I will never be, but I have known how to be happy without harming anyone. And if he makes you happy, that's what I want for you."

"Uncle Gerold, I don't know why we're talking about this," you told him, almost desperate to get the subject over with. You were not in love with Aemond. You would never be. Never. That was just crazy. What was happening to you was unreal. Aemond was your uncle. Your uncle. Your uncle. Just like Gerold, and yet you didn't look the same at the Dornishman, nor did your heart beat the same when he looked at you.

"You don't know why we're talking about this. But I do know. I'm a Dornishman; I've done crazy, terrible, exciting things where they had to be done. And I want you to experience the things you want to experience, especially now that you are of legal age," he told you again with sincerity and understanding. Oh, gods. That was just what you needed to take the plunge, understanding. "I'm not telling you that the world has to find out, just do it", he advised you, worried about your happiness.

"Please, can we stop talking about this repulsive subject?" you begged him, and your Uncle Gerold started the car.

"Be that as it may, leave stoat because that way you're only going to hurt him?" he told you and started driving. You followed the rest of the journey in silence, and upon arrival, you sadly celebrated your birthday party. All your friends and family gathered there, happy and festive, while you looked at your phone at all times. Where was Aemond that year? Where?

That day, right after the birthday party, you broke up with Brynden, much to his dismay, and went to bed thinking about how Aemond hadn't called you all day, how much you needed him and how frustrated you were. You didn't want to accept it or even think about it, but your Uncle Gerold was right, and that conversation you had with him was only the first step in accepting it. You had, after all, broken up with your boyfriend at the mere prospect of going back to King's Landing. At the only prospect of seeing Aemond again.

Aemond had been very specific about what he wanted on this special day. He had entered that club on Silk Street through the back door. It had all been arranged by Alys, who, like always, asked no questions. She had just executed orders perfectly. He sat on a large lonely sofa in one of the VIP rooms of that place. No one had seen him enter, and no one would see him leave. Only the owner of the establishment and the girl who had prepared him would know. He looked at his messages. He should write to you. At least write you a 'Happy Birthday', but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was a coward. He would always be a coward.

The girl entered with a smile and an innocent dress. She looked like you. Same hair. Same complexion, but her eyes weren't purple. They were so blue they almost looked like violets, but they weren't purple. Enough was that with the little time he had given them to prepare it. The girl approached him with a half smile, and he only told her that he had a present for her. The girl looked surprised, but she excitedly opened the birthday box. Aemond thought that if he squinted at her, he could see you in front of him. He shook his head. He was sick. What was wrong with him? The girl opened the box, and Aemond smiled as he tied the gag inside the box. He didn't want to hear her moans or her screams because they wouldn't be yours. He put her on all fours and entered her hard without lubricating the girl. It hurt. You would not hurt him, you would enjoy him under his touch. It was what he said to punish himself immediately afterwards. His mind was a sea of contradictions, that that girl looked like you was a mere coincidence, that he was going to fuck her on your birthday, another one.

It was the best way he could think of to celebrate your majority of age. However, unknowingly and unconsciously, he couldn't stop thinking about you while bumping his hips against that prostitute's, and he would cum with the thought of wishing you a happy birthday because that was his way of celebrating it. His sad and lonely way of celebrating. He had never felt so alone or a failure in his life, and it was all because of what was produced in his body when he looked at you. That scared him and transformed him into his worst fear: being Daemon.

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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When Fire Meets Fate

Request: Yes or No

TW for this series: Incest, implied incest, violence, typical GoT warnings.

If any of this may be upsetting to you, the reader, please avoid this series and instead check out my other work.

~~~

Within the castle, deep within its thick walls, resided part of the Hightower family; Otto Hightower and two of his children, Alicent and (Y/N) Hightower. For as long as the twins could remember, King's Landing had been their home, their safe haven. The Red Keep held many memories from them, from the beginning of Alicents' friendship with Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen to the tragic passing of their beloved mother, Marin Hightower. The twins had been brought up under the watchful eye of their father, but no amount of words or comfort could fill the gaping wound Marin had left on her death day. She'd left behind heartbroken children, and a son who let his anger warm his heart.

"Back already?" (Y/N) questioned, back pressed to the wall and one hand beneath the book propped up against his leg. His thumb had been wedged between the two pages, fingers pressed against the cover of the book to keep it from falling. His eyes never left the pages, even as his sister approached the windowsill he had been perched on.

"You should come see the dragons with me someday, (Y/N)."

"You hate them."

"They frighten me, is all." Alicent reached over, pushing her brothers' legs off the windowsill and smoothing out the back of her dress as she sat. The only words he could use to describe his sister were graceful and naive. She'd always been a daddy's girl, even more so after the death of their mother. He could do no wrong in her eyes. Something (Y/N) found pitiful. But still, she was his darling sister.

Delicately folding her hands in her lap, she smiled at him. "Rhaenyra asked about you. She always does."

"Because it is only polite to ask about family when you're with someone, Alicent." Slipping his thumb out from the book, he pressed his fingers against the cover and it snapped shut, a cloud of dust shooting up into the air from the pages. "When I'm with Lord Daris I ask about his sons, even if I find them particularly vexing. It is called manners, Alicent. And Princess Rhaenyra has them."

"Oh, but..." Trailing off, Alicents' lips formed a pout and her shoulders sagged, her attempt at bringing her favorite people together dismissed with one sentence. "I care much for her, and it would bring me much joy to see the both of you getting along."

"You say that as if we fight."

"I say it because you ignore her."

"I ignore everyone, not just her."

"(Y/N)-" Alicent stopped herself, shutting her eyes and inhaling deeply. Patience is a virtue, their mother would say. Gently setting his book aside on the drawer beside the window, (Y/N) scooted closer to his sister, leaning over and resting his chin upon her shoulder. He reached out, dipping his hand between hers. Alicent wrapped her fingers around his hand and opened her eyes, pressing her cheek against his head.

"I just miss... I miss Mother, I suppose."

"I miss her too," Alicent muttered softly. "But she wouldn't want you to hide in this room forever," Alicent added, lifting a hand to gently caress her brothers' cheek. It was true, that he knew. His mother wouldn't want him grieving her forever. She'd want him to live his life, marry someone he loved, and have many children. But he wanted her there with him, every step of the way. It was unfair, but he supposed life couldn't always be easy.

"Come to the tourney-"

"As if Father would even allow me to miss it." (Y/N) groaned and leaned back, rising from the windowsill and picking the book up from the drawer. "He'll have my head on a pike if I don't show." He grumbled, running his fingers down the cover of the book as he neared the bookshelf. Alicent chuckled and stood as (Y/N) slid the book into the shelf, eyes raking over the rest of the books they had. Marins' books. He'd collected a few, wishing to have as much of his mother as possible.

"I'm sure you'll find it exciting." Alicent smiled, standing behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back.

"I promise it'll be worth going."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Staring forward at the rows of people before him, (Y/N) had begun to seriously doubt his sister. He found no pleasure in listening to a crowd of fools cheer knights on as they threw each other from horses. But, he supposed her smile when he took a seat beside her made it all worthwhile. He looked back toward his father, meeting his eyes. Otto gave him a nod, showing his approval at his attendance as if he hadn't spent the previous night lecturing him on the importance of attending events as a family unit.

"Be welcome!" King Viserys began, rising from his seat and smiling widely. For a man his age, he had the energy and joy of a child. "I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise you will not be disappointed! When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equals in our histories." He continued, even as his daughter hurried past the seated children and took her seat beside Alicent. Fashionably late, one could say. "And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share. Queen Aemma has begun her labors."

The crowd erupted in cheers and claps and when his father's gaze burned into the back of his skull, (Y/N) clapped as well. "May the luck of the Seven shine on all our combatants!" With that, he finished his speech and the crowd continued cheering as the knights began their rounds. (Y/N) watched absentmindedly, hoping the knights knocked each other out without delay. He'd rather be enjoying the meals and refreshments.

Strolling up, one of the knights declared, "Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of The Queen Who Never Was." (Y/N) smirked, bowing his head to hide it when Alicent lightly kicked his ankle. Princess Rhaenys approached the knight and slipped her token down his lance, amusement etched all over her face.

"Good fortune to you, cousin!"

"I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it." The knight grinned back at her, moving away when Rhaenys turned and headed back to her seat.

While his sister and her friend gossiped, (Y/N) watched the two knights get into positions before racing toward one another. Perhaps Rhaenys cousin should've taken her good fortune, seeing as he had been knocked off his horse rather roughly. Criston Cole, if he'd heard Rhaenyra correctly, proved to be rather good at the game. The remaining knights lined up and Prince Daemon began making his rounds before ultimately making his choice, a choice that made (Y/N) shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King!" Alicent placed her elbow on the armrest, hand lifting up to her lips, the anxiety on her face clear as day. (Y/N) would've loved to be optimistic as he loved all his brothers and believed in them. But going against Prince Daemon almost always resulted in blood being spilled. (Y/N) watched closely as his brother and Daemon ran at each other, his body relaxing when Gwayne successfully broke Daemon's shield. But the round wasn't over yet. And (Y/N)s' thoughts proved to be right as Daemon pointed his lance at the legs of Gwaynes' horse, bringing both his brother and his horse crumbling to the ground.

"Fuck.." (Y/N) muttered. Blood dripped down the side of his older brothers' head and Gwayne was quickly dragged off out of sight. Alicents' breathing quickened and she glanced back at their father, pressing her lips together.

"He'll be alright, Ali." (Y/N) whispered soothingly. "Gwayne's stubborn. He'll be walking it off by the end of the day." Alicent swallowed and took a few deep breaths, calming herself and shaking away the bloody image of her brother from her mind. Daemon smugly approached next and Rhaenyra stood up with Alicent right on her heels.

"Nicely done, Uncle." Rhaenyra praised, leaning against the railing to look down at him.

"Thank you, Princess." Daemon shifted his gaze onto Alicent. His father had surely said or done something to irritate the prince, but then again, Daemon had always hated Otto. Not that (Y/N) could blame him. "Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it." Tilting his lance toward Alicent, he grinned. Rhaenyra turned her head, eyes following Alicent as the brunette retrieved her token. Her eyes, however, shifted on (Y/N) and her gaze lingered on him until he looked in her direction. Daemon smirked, gaze trained on his niece until Alicent slid her token down his lance.

"Good luck, Prince Daemon." Alicent smiled and returned to her seat with Rhaenyra, excitedly clapping her hands.

The game went on, fights breaking out between winners and the enraged losers. Something that had certainly become a tradition during tourneys. The crowd cheered the brutality, only growing louder with each drop of blood that got spilled. They didn't care for the knights that got their heads bashed in, their blood and brains coating the earth. They didn't weep for the lives that were lost over a mere game. They didn't care to check on the children present, the ones who watched the carnage in fear.

King's landing. His home, his safe haven... His hell, his cage. A place he'd be bound to, no matter how far he went.

"Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, prince of the city!" The two men stared each other down as they got in positions, wasting no time in charging at each other, withholding nothing as shields were broken. The second time around, Criston Cole's lance made direct contact, and Daemon was knocked off his horse, dragging along until his horse reached the other end. Seething with rage, Daemon called for a sword whilst Criston Cole retrieved his flail and the two men went at it again, swinging their weapons and blocking with their shields, knocking each other down just to get right back up again. It would've been admirable if it weren't over a tourney out of all things.

Successfully knocking Ser Criston Cole down, Daemon turned away from his opponent and lifted his arms, soaking in the cheers, too preoccupied with his gloating to notice Criston Cole rising from his fallen position. With a swift swing of his flail, Daemon was knocked down, arm pinned. Without bringing his flail down on the prince, Criston got him to yield, taking the spot as the winner. Approaching the stands and taking off his helmet, he revealed his Dornish features and stared up at the princess, panting softly.

"I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor." He called up and Rhaenyra retrieved her wreath with a smirk, tossing it down to the man.

"I wish you luck, Ser Criston."

"Are you quite serious?"

"Indeed." The sound of his father's voice took his attention off the girls, making (Y/N) turn in his seat to look at his father as he gathered the lords of the council. The grim look on Otto's face as he looked at Rhaenyra spoke volumes. The same grim, pitiful look the maesters had given (Y/N) the night his mother had passed. Watching the lords disappear down the steps, (Y/N) frowned and looked back toward his sister, watching Alicent whisper reassurances to the girl who knew her mother did not make it. Rising from their chairs, the wives of the lords spoke amongst themselves before hesitantly leaving as well.

"Come on, Alicent." (Y/N) murmured, standing and touching his sisters' shoulder.

"But-"

"We should head back inside. The Princess's father will call on her soon." (Y/N) reminded and Alicent sighed, gently taking Rhaenyras' hand. The Targaryen clenched her jaw, lips twitching as she fought back tears.

"Oh, Rhaenyra..." Alicent breathed and wrapped an arm around her friend, gingerly pulling the girl up from her seat and leading her out with her brother trailing behind. It wasn't his place to comfort someone he barely knew, much less a princess who happened to be a Targaryen. The most he could do was wait for the funeral and extend his condolences. Because losing a loving mother felt like losing a heart. One felt it in their bones. On a rainy night when his mother had passed, he'd felt a coldness wash over him, as if she were hugging him one last time before departing. His sweet mother. The woman who had given him life. The woman who had cried and laughed when she saw her two little ones side by side. The woman who comforted him when his father did not. The woman who fell suddenly ill and was rarely visited by her busy husband. (Y/N) remembered her face each time Otto didn't visit when she requested. How she wanted to weep but refused to in front of her children.

King's Landing had lost their queen, but Rhaenyra had lost her mother, and she hadn't even been there to properly say goodbye. It'd be a pain she'd carry until she died. A pain the Hightower children knew all too well.

So when Rhaenyra's father finally allowed her into the bedchamber, Alicent buried her face in her brothers' chest as Rhaenyra's muffled cries escaped past the walls and echoed down the halls. Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulders, the two made their way to their fathers' bedchambers. Alicent wept into the palms of her hands while (Y/N) ran his fingers through her long brown hair, letting her release her sadness.

"Poor Rhaenyra." Alicent sniffled, using a handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

"She'll need you now more than ever, no matter what Father may say." Alicent blinked, shiny dark eyes looking at her brother, brows furrowing as she took in his words.

"What?"

"Father-" Clamping his mouth shut and turning toward the door as their father entered the room, (Y/N) removed his hand from Alicents' hair and lowered his gaze onto his lap. The older man sighed upon noticing his daughters' state.

"What happened today is a tragedy indeed. No child should go through such a thing." Otto sighed. "Both Princess Rhaenyra and King Viserys' will need us more than ever. We grieve the loss of both Queen Aemma... and Prince Baelon." Alicent gasped, covering her mouth, Rhaenyras' name falling from her lips. The heir King Viserys had so desperately wanted had been the very one to result in the death of his beloved wife.

"How's Gwayne?" (Y/N) asked quietly, lifting his head to look at his father. His brother had likely been the least of Otto's concerns given the circumstances.

"He has a mild head injury. A day's rest and he'll be well enough to return to Oldtown." Some good news in the midst of the chaos. The last thing the Hightowers needed was to bury another one of their own, and (Y/N) was sure his mother could wait a few more years for one of her children to join her.

The funeral, like all funerals, had been quiet and solemn. King Viserys stared blankly at the wrapped corpses, never once looking toward his teary-eyed daughter, even when she stared at him pleadingly. With Syrax looming over the hill, the she-dragon only moved closer when her rider commanded her, blowing fire onto the bodies and putting an end to the funeral and cementing the reality of Queen Aemmas death. As they headed back to the castle, (Y/N) felt dread bubbling in his stomach at the calculating look on his fathers' face. Among many things, Otto Hightower was an opportunist, and (Y/N) knew whatever he had planned couldn't be good.

Staring into the fireplace, (Y/N) listened to the scraping of pen meeting paper. His father wrote swiftly, still reeling from what he had described as a disappointing meeting with the council. That could only mean someone had evoked King Viserys' wrath, not that he ever truly followed through with his threats. Tilting his head toward his father, he watched him hand the letter over to the maester, quietly instructing him as Alicent entered the room.

"My darling," Otto cooed, enveloping her in a hug and kissing the top of her head. He extended an arm for (Y/N) to join them, but his son merely stared at him, features hardening. His rejection only made Otto sigh. He pulled back to peer down at his daughter, tenderly stroking the side of her head.

"I found myself thinking of your own mother today." He murmured.

"How is His Grace?"

"Very low. Which is why I sent for you." Otto detached himself from his daughter, meeting his son's glare for a second before he took a seat as his desk, leaning back to address his daughter. "I thought you might go to him, offer him comfort."

"In his chambers?" Alicent questioned, swallowing when Otto quirked a brow. Looking down, she anxiously brought a hand to her lips, nipping at the skin around her thumb. A habit she'd fallen into after the death of their mother. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Stop that." Otto scolded softly and Alicent dropped her arm to her side, lowering her head further. "He'll be glad of a visitor. I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Princess Rhaenyra while you tend to her father." It wasn't a suggestion. It was a demand. One he expected his twins to follow. Alicents' trembling lips pulled into a small smile and she nodded, glancing at her brother before she turned toward the door.

"You might wear one of your mothers' dresses." Alicent stopped, lingering by the door and looking back toward her brother. She pressed her lips together and looked forward once more, leaving the room. (Y/N) waited until her footsteps disappeared down the hall before stepping toward his father's desk.

"When will it be enough for you, Father? Why must you use us to get what you want?"

"I'm doing this for us," Otto responded cooly, dipping his pen into ink. He wrote a few words on the paper before looking up at his son.

"And if you care for this family, you'll do as I say."

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faces-ofvenus · 2 years

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tonight, tomorrow and for eternity

I'm not very good at english so give it up lol.

warnings: may contain sexual details, so if you are a minor, do not read.

He had been watching her for a while, not wanting to appear discreet or try to fake something, Aegon wanted everyone to see the desire he felt for her, they were at yet another family dinner, which more resembles a political chatter between his grandfather. and mother, one he sure doesn't feel like listening to, his eyes were on just one lady, y/n his newest servant and lover, she at first was just another person who was there to do her job, besides of course, to serve as another toy for him, and his pleasures, and nothing else, but his thoughts changed so fast when the moon changes phase, he could only think about the night before, feeling their skins together and sweaty, moving, not wanting to stop, or the night before the night before, when their lips met with passion and fervor.

“Aegon pay attention.

His mother quickly cut his thoughts, she knew where he was looking, it was the same person as always, it was infuriating her, knowing how much that woman had influence over her son, where her commands even great were easily answered, Gods he could at least hide it better. Aegon only pretended not to hear her and tried his best not to look at the maid, to please Alicent a little, even though he knew his thoughts would only turn to that night, when she would be in his arms once more, between many times.

Patience has never been her strong point, and today would obviously be no different, slamming her against the wall closest to her room, her hands traveling over her body, while his lips couldn't stop wanting to connect with hers, she tried her best to him, not because she didn't want to, but simply because someone could come in at any time, they would usually fuck at dawn, a time when everyone would be sleeping, but now, now she could only fear that the queen would walk through that door, she already had been warned, as nothing very good happens to those who lie with the prince, and she already knew that Alicent had a deep regret about her, y/n doesn't even know how her head isn't on a platter yet, maybe the gods then around her side, controlling the queen's fury, between kisses here and there, silly hands and kneading, she stopped him breathlessly, trying to make eye contact with her lilac eyes, so deep, they had so much power over her, she didn't know if she did. what he wanted for that he was the Prince, or because he couldn't say no to his eyes, they watched her with the purest desire, as if she were the goddess herself in front of her, she was so hot, maybe that's what she loved about Aegon, she He looked at her and fucked her and wanted her as if she were a goddess in his eyes.

“We can't here and now…her mother wouldn't be happy.

He rolled his eyes, patience didn't suit him, but his dragon temper did, he bit his tongue holding his rage, Aegon knew the woman hated his blind rage, gods he wanted the approval of a mere maid so badly, he pulled her away. closer to his body, gluing his breastplate to hers, never taking his clear gaze away, like a dragon looking at a sheep before dinner.

“I don't care about her, I just call you and me right in that bed, all night, all day, maybe for all eternity. - he said bluntly, grabbing her by the arm, and trying to make his words, and honestly she was tired of caring about Alicent, or anyone, she would have him for tonight, and for the next until she couldn't, until eternity reach them. Going without batting an eye, stripping off her clothes as she watched him take off his green garments, so expensive and silky compared to hers, everything about him seemed so refined and unattainable, they never looked away from each other, crazy, that was how Aegon found her. it made her feel, like a madwoman who is not afraid of danger and death. When they were both naked she pulled her by the neck, and then whispered even though they were the only ones in the room, and no one could hear them.

“You will be the death of me, my prince.

Two looks, lust, passion and love, a blind mix, of two inconsequential lovers, as he said, tonight, the next and for eternity, this bed would be their place where none would make it and they wouldn't even want to leave.

#Aegon ii Targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #reader insert #reader

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icarusignite · 1 year

Text

An Eye for an Eye (part 12)

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts <3

Word Count: 3319

All chapters: MASTERLIST

Aemond Targaryen landed his dragon in Storm's End for the second time in his life, his mind full of thoughts. He had a foreboding sense that something wasn't right. Or perhaps he just needed an excuse to get away. It had been a difficult few days at the Red Keep, with his grandfather's constant reprimands and his brother's insufferable behaviour. Aemond would not care as much if Otto's remarks were aimed only at him, but it drove him mad that the target of all his admonishing was his mother. His beloved mother, who was already at her wit's end and vulnerable to her father's comments. As put together and formidable Alicent Hightower may be in her own right, somehow Otto Hightower seemed to have the ability to reduce his daughter to a mere child when he spoke to her. Aemond blamed himself for the treatment of his mother, but a part of him blamed Daenys too. His initial hurt and anguish at her departure had hardened into a blind sort of rage toward his wife. She had left him all alone even despite knowing how much he needed her and she had left his mother to face the blame for allowing her to escape.

When Aemond was shown into the main hall, he was surprised to see Cassandra Baratheon seated on the stone throne that her father usually occupied. He tipped his head in respect and started to ask after her father when he received the second surprise of the day. From one of the adjoining corridors stepped out one of the last people he expected to see there. Despite his best efforts, he found himself studying her, charting the changes in her countenance and in the way she carried herself. The scar on her face stretched gruesomely across her eye, the skin still swollen and sutured, and yet she looked calmer than he had seen her look in the longest time. She seemed to have just finished sparring with someone because she was slightly out of breath and sweat plastered her silver hair to her forehead and neck. Aemond felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of her sparring with someone else, at the thought of her in close proximity with anyone who wasn't him.

"Lady Cassandra, I hope you are in good health. I received a letter from your father a few days prior but have not heard from him since. I came to see if all was well and if he had received my response," Aemond finally managed to pull his attention away from his wife long enough to address Cassandra Baratheon.

Daenys looked up and grimaced, finally catching sight of the wretched man. She moved her hand to the sword at her hip but was stopped short by Cassandra's exclamation.

"Restrain yourself, princess! I will not have more bloodshed on my lands," Casandra sounded impatient and Daenys's hand fell from her sword.

"Yes Lady Cassandra," she begrudgingly agreed.

"And Prince Aemond, as for my father, I am afraid he has passed on. I am his heir and the head of House Baratheon now so you may take up your discussions with me."

"My lady you? You are your father's heir? I do not remember Lord Borros naming any of his daughters as his heir. In fact, I distinctly recall him saying that should the gods ever grant him a son of his own blood, Storm's End would pass to him," Aemond returned smoothly.

"Yes well he had no sons as you are well aware, so you may speak to me about whatever it is you needed my father for," Cassandra's patience was running thin now.

"It was regarding our alliance, my lady. We had plans to discuss Crown Prince Jaehaerys's betrothal to your youngest sister Floris Baratheon."

"Ah yes about that, I am afraid House Baratheon can no longer stand by your brother. I do hope you will understand but I believe that it is in our best interests to support Queen Rhaenyra and her claim. She is after all her father's true heir," Cassandra explained.

"And may I ask the reason behind this sudden change of heart my lady? It was my understanding that House Baratheon had an agreement with my brother?" Aemond's brow furrowed.

"You must understand that alliances shift all the time. My grandfather's allegiance was to Princess Raenys and her kin Rhaenyra and my Father's was to Prince Aegon. Now mine is to Queen Rhaenyra. It is as simple as that. And we have the support of the Queen's Sword herself," Cassandra nodded her head toward Daenys who had been watching their exchange silently the entire time.

Aemond's mind reeled, trying to figure out what exactly was going on here. This did not bode well. Lord Borros had been in perfectly good spirits when he had last seen him but the humourless smirk Daenys sent his way told him that his death was not a natural one. He could not imagine that she would have killed him though. It was difficult to reconcile such a version of her with the gentle girl he once knew. However times had changed, and in times of war, he supposed no one was as they seemed.

"Whatever Princess Rhaenyra has pledged in return for your alliance, I can promise you that King Aegon can provide you with that and tenfold more. Name your pri-," Aemond tried to bargain before he was interrupted by his wife.

"That's Queen Rhaenyra to you, you pig. Show some respect when you say her name!" Daenys spat.

Aemond almost flinched. Pig. She had never called him that before. It brought back old memories and even older scars.

"Princess..." Cassandra warned giving her a sidelong glance, and Daenys closed her eyes with a sigh.

Aemond looked between the two girls with curiosity. It seems as though they had formed a friendship of sorts. This alliance would be harder to reverse than he had imagined. Although he hated to do it, to go home bearing news of a lost ally, it may be in his best interests that he retreated for now.

"You cannot buy our loyalty, my prince. I am afraid you will have to return to your brothers with my apology. We cannot support his claim for the iron throne. I understand that this would mean the betrothal between my sister and his son is no longer applicable."

"Very well my lady. It will be as you wish, but if I may, I do believe you are making a terrible mistake allying yourself with someone who has no hope of successfully claiming the iron throne. My brother already sits upon it. The matter is as good as settled," Aemond conceded, giving her a final bow before turning to leave.

Before Aemond could make it out of the throne room, he found himself slammed into a wall, a dagger pressed to his throat.

"Daenys!" he heard Cassandra shout out the princess's name, all consideration for formality gone.

He found himself more surprised than hurt, his wife's strength no match for his own. He could easily have shaken her off if he so wished but he waited to see what she had to say. He was either arrogant enough to believe that she couldn't hurt him, or foolish enough to believe she wouldn't. He gave her a lazy smile and it prompted her to press the dagger closer against his neck.

"You have some nerve coming here! To show your face and spew the bullshit that you just did!" Daenys snarled, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"I only spoke the truth, my dear wife. But I suppose it is true what they say; the truth hurts," he returned.

"Do not call me that. I am not your anything!"

Aemond held up his hand to flash at her the slim gold band that encircled his ring finger, "We are still bound, you and I. No matter how much you hate it, in the eyes of the Gods, old and new, you are still mine."

"Do not use the Gods to bend me to your will. It will not make me spare you!" she snapped.

"No? But she might," Aemond gestured toward Cassandra who was still shouting at Daenys to unhand their guest.

Daenys's grip faltered. She knew that she shouldn't be causing chaos in someone else's halls but she couldn't help herself. Just the sight of him made her blood boil and seeing him here brought all the awful memories rising back until they choked her. It made her want to choke them right back but she'd settle for strangling him instead.

"Queen's Sword hmm...You gained a shiny new title during your time away. Now, how'd you go about doing that?" Aemond's voice was soft, and his gaze was even softer.

"It did not come steeped in the blood of a child, Kinslayer."

"It had a blood price all the same. Or do you really expect me to believe that Lord Borros just happened to die peacefully in his bed after handing over his seat to his daughter? You must think me foolish."

"What do you want me to say huh? That I killed him? It doesn't matter. It doesn't make lady Cassandra's claim any less true. She is his firstborn child. She has the papers with his seal declaring her his heir. You cannot dispute this!"

Aemond scoffed, his eyes hardening a fraction, "Lord Borros has always made his opinion on women in positions of leadership clear. Everyone knew that. How do you expect anyone to believe his sudden change of heart?"

"I do not care for the thoughts or opinions of anyone. She has his decree sealed with his blood. It is done. She is the rightful heir. I understand that you and your usurper family might have trouble imagining a woman on a throne but try not to let it show," Daenys's dagger dug deeper, drawing a sliver of blood that marked the pale column of his throat.

"Princess enough!" Cassandra had finally reached the arguing pair.

Daenys allowed the lady of the house to pull her away. Aemond looked at her in amusement as he wiped his hand across his neck.

"So that’s what all this is about? All this trouble because you are upset that the nobility is choosing to support my brother's claim to the throne. You can't just go around killing anyone who opposes you Daenys. Now you've gone and painted a target on Lady Cassandra's back for the sake of your pitiful ambitions. Do you think all her Baratheon relatives are going to sit back and watch some little girl take a throne that they've been waiting for all their lives? And what of the true heir to the Baratheon seat? For all your talk of hating usurpers, you just usurped someone to put her up there. How ironic," Aemond gave Daenys a sardonic look as she turned a flaming shade of red to match her building fury. She would have lunged at him again if it weren't for Cassandra's hand on her shoulder.

"Do not speak of me as though I am not here," Cassandra finally interrupted. "I chose this. In a world that was fair, this seat would belong to me. If I was a firstborn son instead of a daughter, I would have been the undisputed heir. And yet, as a daughter all I was ever going to be good for was to be sold off to some lord or prince in exchange for more power. Power that would go to my father or husband, and I would only be a commodity. At least now, whatever deals I make will be of benefit to me. Princess Daenys only helped me take back what was rightfully mine and I am prepared to fight to keep it."

"Lady Cassandra I was only-"

"I will not be called a foolish little girl in my own halls Prince Aemond. I think it's best you return home now. You will not find the alliance you seek here," Cassandra finished firmly.

Aemond turned towards Daenys, all humour gone from his eyes, "This will not save your family from their fate and all your efforts will have been for nought."

Daenys stepped forward, "Like being peaceful saved my brother from his fate? You really ought to leave before I lose my restraint and Lady Cassandra has the unfortunate luck of having to order your blood scrubbed off her floor."

"I will leave, but perhaps I will take along what belongs to me," Aemond took Daenys's proximity to him as an opportunity to seize her wrist.

"What! Unhand me at once!" Daenys tried to wrench her hand away but he was far too strong.

"No. I think I'll take you back with me. Make a gift of you to my mother. Grandfather has been exceedingly upset with her for allowing you to leave so bringing you back will be a fair exchange for the alliance lost. A princess and her dragon in exchange for the Baratheons. You must understand it is a little disappointing returning empty-handed," Aemond's grip tightened.

Daenys threw all her weight into pulling away but try as she might she could not. Her indignation grew, at being treated like a mere object to be bartered and traded for. When he began to drag her with him toward the grand doors leading outside, panic began to build. She could not go back. She'd rather die than go back to the prison that was the Red Keep.

"Prince Aemond, you have no right-" Cassandra began before Aemond held up a hand

"I have every right. She is my lawful wife. And your knights are no match for me, my lady, even you know that. It would be in your best interests to let us pass and perhaps my brother might be able to be persuaded to look past your betrayal.

"She is not some thing you can just drag away at will. I will not have a kidnapping on my lands. Leave her be."

Aemond ignored her and continued to drag Daenys toward the exit. Daenys reached out her other hand to scrabble for purchase, to grab onto something, anything, but there was nothing stable enough within reach.

"Stop squirming. I am not letting you go. That night was the last time I made that mistake and for the sake of my family, I will not make it again. You and your dragon pose a significant enough threat to my brother's crown and I will not let you ruin this."

Daenys stopped resisting for a moment and although Aemond's hold did not loosen, his arm came into closer range. She used this advantage to bare her teeth and sink them into his flesh. He grunted, his fingers tightening hard enough to form bruises.

"You little animal! Did you just bite me?"

The princess only glared and bit down harder, drawing blood, and the two remained locked in their deadly embrace, neither of them easing their grasp. Aemond used his opposite hand to grab a fistful of his wife's hair at the base of her neck. He yanked her head backward and her teeth dislodged from his arm. She stared up at him defiantly before spitting in his face. He hummed thoughtfully before pulling her arm and throwing her over his shoulder in one smooth movement. She yelped in surprise before beginning to rain blows upon his back, but it was nothing compared to the tight grip he had on her legs. This way he was easily able to walk out the door and make his way toward his dragon.

"Nonono, you cannot make me go back. You can't! I won't go! My mother will have your head for this you monster," she howled, her desperation reaching its peak because she knew once they reached Vhagar, it was over. Her only other option would be to leap from the dragon while it was flying, thousands of feet in the air.

In the distance Silverwing let out a roar of displeasure, sensing her rider's plight but Aemond knew that the dragon could not help Daenys, not without hurting her, so she wouldn't try.

"Silverwing! Dracarys!" Daenys screeched.

Aemond was startled. What was this foolish woman thinking now. Did she intend to burn herself alive too in her rage. He sped up his pace as he would much rather go home without another casualty on his hands. Just when Aemond had almost reached Vhagar and Daenys had lost all hope, Aemond felt a stabbing pain in his side. Because he was not expecting it, his surprise caused his hold on Daenys to falter just slightly. However, Daenys used that single advantageous moment to plant her hands on his back and vault herself over his shoulder, falling in a heap behind him. Before he had fully turned around, she scrambled away to a safer distance, drawing her sword in front of her with shaking hands. Aemond looked down in bewilderment to see an arrow embedded in his side. He finally caught sight of the little girl standing on the stone steps of the castle, with another arrow notched in her bow, pointing at him. He turned back to Daenys who seemed prepared to cut off his very hands if he touched her again. Snapping the arrow's shaft near its base, he turned to climb onto Vhagar and took his leave.

After watching him leave, Daenys collapsed to her knees, the sword clattering to the floor. Tears of relief and horror streamed down her face as she struggled to process all that had happened.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra approached her hesitantly, and along with her was the young girl from earlier.

"Yes. Yes, I'm okay. I just... it's been a lot," Daenys responded shakily.

Cassandra turned to glare at the young girl who was her sister, "And you Floris. You shot the prince? Why would you do that?"

Floris frowned, "He was taking the princess away. She looked like she didn't want to go."

Cassandra's eyes turned thoughtful, "No, no she didn't. Princess Daenys I am sorry. I should have done something more to stop him."

"I told you to call me Daenys when it's just us," Daenys offered her a small smile, "and besides, I'm alright. Floris here saved me."

"You left in the middle of sparring, and you said that you'd be back soon but it had been a while so I went looking for you," Floris interrupted.

"Is that so? Well, I'm glad you did. Thank you," Daenys brushed the girl's hair away from her face affectionately.

"Will you finish sparring with me afterwards then?" Floris asked, and only when she had received Daenys's affirmative nod did she allow herself to be dismissed by her older sister.

"I truly am sorry Daenys. I just didn't know what to do to make him stop," Cassandra repeated to which Daenys shook her head again.

"I told you it's alright. And besides, it is I who should be sorry for creating that ruckus in your home. I didn't mean to provoke him, I just... I got so angry and I couldn't control myself...but I didn't think that he'd-" tears flooded her uninjured eye once again as she tried to wipe them away with trembling hands.

Cassandra dropped to her knees beside her and hesitated a moment before pulling Daenys closer. Daenys wrapped her arms around her shoulders and wept, while Cassandra simply brushed her hair back and held her.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bother," Daenys sobbed.

"In this world run by men, we women must help each other as best we can. It is the only way to make this place bearable. You are no bother Daenys."

That day, sitting underneath the afternoon sun, two girls found a kindred spirit in each other's embrace. Daenys never had a sister but if she did, she imagined it would feel like this, and Cassandra found that she cared for this ambitious young princess as though she was one of her own sisters. A friendship forged in bloodshed and politics but a friendship all the same.

_______________

Taglist (comment to be added/removed):

@m1tzifa1ry @blulemonades @bietchz @bugheadskid @applepyesworld @mrswhitethornbelikov @mysingularitybts @caspianobsessed @lotr-got @theekinslayer @vaf24 @feiwelinchen @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @hanabbrmpg @issybee0611 @lyannesworld @moni-cah @akinatrix @carryonmywaywardho @queenofbeingdepressed @cateyesinlove @frozenhuntress67 @bregarc @spicykimchii @stargaryenx @linevondensternen @duskiebaby

#Aemond x OC #Aemond x Reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #A Song of Ice and Fire #rhaenyra targaryen #Daemon Targaryen #helaena targaryen #Aegon II Targaryen #lucerys velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon #baela targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond x y/n #otto hightower #aemond fanfiction #alicent hightower #game of thrones #borros baratheon

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multifandomfanfiction · 8 months

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Little Dragon Chapter 3

TITLE: Little Dragon Chapter 3 PAIRING: Aemond/Niece!OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 3/? SUMMARY: Daella Velaryon is the only true-born heir of Laenor and Rhaenyra, but after Aemond’s maiming at Driftmark she elects to stay with the royal family. Over the years, she and her uncle Aemond grow closer. So close that not even the threat of war will tear them apart.

Daella’s handmaidens dressed her for dinner in a deep blue gown with her hair done up in intricate braids. When she arrived at dinner, her family was already there. Instead of taking a seat next to her brothers, she sat next to Heleana.

Aemond sat at the head of the table. He reached over and took Daella’s hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You look beautiful, Little Dragon.”

“I must thank you for the gown, my prince.”

“You are to be a Queen one day. You must dress the part.”

Aegon snorted into his wine and his younger brother glared at him.

Everyone quietly talked amongst themselves as they waited for the King to arrive. Viserys entered, carried on a litter, and everyone stood up. He was placed in his spot for the evening and they sat down.

“How good it is…to see you all tonight…together,” Viserys said.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent asked.

“Yes.”

Daella, who had grown up in the Red Keep, still felt awkward when Alicent brought up the Faith of the Seven. Daella herself still believed in the old gods and often found herself talking to the Weirwood tree.

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mind the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bong between out houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed,” Viserys said.

“Hear, hear!” everyone chanted.

“Well done Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” Aegon said.

“Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys, the future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.”

“And to Princess Daella and my son Prince Aemond, who have been betrothed for some years. You have been patient and I think now is the time to reward that patience. You will be married in a week’s time.”

Rhaenyra was taken aback. She knew Daella had always favored her one-eyed uncle, but she never imagined they would marry.

Daella turned to Aemond and smiled. She had been waiting for this day.

Daemon was staring Aemond down as Aemond kissed Daella’s hand again.

Viserys struggled to stand. “It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” Viserys reached up and pulled his golden mask off.

Daella averted her eyes, not wanting to see her grandfather in such a state.

Aemond’s thumb stroked her knuckles in an effort to comfort her.

Even Aegon lowered his eyes.

“My own face is no longer a handsome one if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father. Your brother. Your husband and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dargon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Viserys collapsed into his chair and Rhaenyra stood up.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude and my apology.” Rhaenyra sat down.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow,” Alicent said. She stood up. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Rhaenyra smiled at her.

Aegon got up to fill his wine glass and whispered something to Baela, causing Jacaerys to stand up.

Aemond stood up, ready to defend his older brother.

“Aemond,” Daella said, “Please.”

Aemond stared at Jacaerys, waiting for him to do something.

Jacaerys turned to Aegon and playfully punched him in the shoulder before raising his glass in Aemond’s direction. “To Prince Aegon…and Prince Aemond. We have not see each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles. And…to my beloved sister Daella. I regret that we did not get to spend that much time together, but you have grown into a fine woman and I pray that our uncle will make you happy and that you will have many children together.”

“Thank you. And I pray that you and Baela are happy together,” Daella said.

“Beware the beast beneath the boards,” Helaena whispered.

Daella reached over and rubbed her arm.

Helaena suddenly stood up. “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

They were a few snickers and Helaena sat down.

“Was that okay?” Helaena asked Daella.

“Yes, you did very well,” Daella told her aunt.

Aemond smiled at their interaction.

Helaena was very grateful to have Daella to talk to, since people mostly ignored her.

“Good. Let us have some music,” Viserys said.

#aemond/oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Something ive always wanted to see with Otto and Rosebud's family is how does Otto hang out with little Cedric? Would he carry him around the red keep or sit with him during council meetings when theres nothing serious on the agenda? Take him to the stables and watch horses? Keep Cedric's drawings in his office?! You have no idea hod often do i think about this little family 💚💚💚

Oh gossshhhhh I've been wanting to write some fluffy domestic stuff with this universe, so this is my chance!

Note: as of the newest installment "In the Dunes" , Cedric Hightower is three-years old. In these headcanons, the Greens kids are still teens, since I'm going based off of the age-group in the last part of the series.

***

Otto often remembers his time with his eldest son, Gwayne, whenever he holds or spends time with Cedric. Cedric certainly has more Hightower than Tyrell with his dark ginger curls and brown eyes, but he had your temperament. Or so Otto believes whenever he giggles or smiles. It still amazes him that he's doing the parenting thing all over again at his age, something he did not plan on until he married you. When people reach a certain age, they don't feel like going through the troubles of child caring again, but with you at his side, he feels just as confident than he once did.

He does spend time with his son in the family apartment, watching over him fondly and cuddling him whenever you're occupied or tired. He buys him small toys that are usually fit for toddlers: small wooden blocks, wooden knights and horses (especially horses), and even a wooden play sword that Cedric likes to swing around aimlessly.

He's a father of two already. He has experience with babies, even if they do have mothers and wet nurses to care for them. When Cedric cries, he can usually guess what the problem is: hungry, changing, or sleepy. Having a sister significantly younger than you and nephews and nieces, you've learned the basics of raising infants, but Otto knows the ins and outs.

You sometimes find him comforting a weeping Cedric in his solar. He'll have the boy cuddled to his chest, soothing him with back rubs while writing to Lord Whoever about Very Important Thing. He only hands him off to you when Cedric has fully calmed down, then goes back to work.

If this boy ever gets sick, Otto gets hourly reports about his illness when he is not around. When he is there, he does what he can to relieve any discomfort his baby boy might be having.

He isn't a man to be annoyed by a crying infant or have very little patience when they do not stop. It does rob him of sleep when Cedric wakes in the middle of night, but he never shows he's upset or angry. He simply lets you handle it, watching you sing him back to sleep in between you, since he refuses to sleep anywhere else after a nightmare.

We know little Ced loves horses. The calf you'd chosen when Cedric was an infant is now a grown pony, and Otto often takes him out riding whenever there is a hunting party or a trip into the forest. He loves seeing Cedric ride because it's the first thing a proper nobleman learns to do as he is growing up.

Since he's only 3-years-old, Cedric cannot hold a proper sword or learn any other martial skills, so Otto focuses on the academic side. He reads to Cedric, usually about history or The Faith or House Hightower. He used a book from Alicent's childhood to show him shapes and colors, teaching him how to say them properly. He showed Cedric pictures of animals or maps of different places, pointing out things and teaching him how to say the words. His son will be educated as well as strong.

Now, just because Cedric is a Hightower, does not mean he's isolated from the rest of his family. Alicent dotes on her younger brother, and showers him with sisterly love at all times; you and Cedric spend a lot of him in her rooms with Helaena and Aemond. Helaena herself sewed a dragonfly pillow for Cedric, and it immediately became his favorite pillow; she likes to give him her one of her many fidget toys to keep him occupied for short periods of time. Aegon doesn't dote or coddle his "baby uncle" like everyone else, but he may have once let Cedric drink from his wine cup when nobody was looking. Aemond sometimes reads to him as well, stoking Cedric's interest in dragons, and tried teaching him chess once. Daeron has met Cedric on a handful of occasions, and loves to play games with him, and showing him books about knights and legends.

And for the sake of utter cute, fluffy visuals: a clingy Cedric may have waddled behind his father into the small council chamber one day when you weren't paying attention to him. Since Alicent heads most of the meetings in her husband's place, she has no problem with Cedric remaining there until the end on the less important days. Otto likes to think one day Cedric himself might sit in Otto's seat, or on any of the council positions.

Cedric is a baby boy who is utterly surrounded by love from people who think themselves incapable of it for a time. All the things that happened to them, they will not let happen to Cedric, the purest and sweetest of them all.

A/N: feel free to send in more cute things because otherwise I'll start rambling about them in blank posts lmao

#otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x you #otto x yn #house of the dragon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction

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yurimother · 3 years

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The Best Yuri of 2020

2020 was hell in every way, and many of us are looking forward to new possibilities and advances in 2021. However, the year brought us many small moments and gifts worth celebrating. Among these, the explosive growth and change within the Yuri genre are among the most precious and most outstanding achievements. This second century of Yuri opened with a bang, as phenomenal new works, creators, and moments made their mark and helped change the future genre.

This annual list is a celebration of just a handful of the fantastic titles, people, and events in Yuri. There are likely some even greater ones that did not make the list because there is so much content in both English and Japanese that even I cannot keep up. However, among the troves of treasure, these titles stood out as shining examples of Yuri excellence. Some were released this year, others were recently adapted into English, and still, others are established titles that rose to prominence to dominate the conversation and my mind this year, but every one of them is worthy of being on this list and in your heart.

Here is the Best Yuri of 2020!

15: The Curse of Kudan Remastered

Japanese Yuri visual novel developers show no sign of slowing down as they continue to push to new heights and try new ideas. These are the same amazing people who brought us the delightful educational Yuri game The Expression Amrilato and the hilarious and surprisingly queer OshiRabu: Waifus Over Husbando’s. However, this most recent release, The Curse of Kudan Remastered, is their best work yet. Released near Halloween, this game brings a new edge of dark mystery and the occult to Yuri audiences worldwide.

The Curse of Kudan is available on MangaGamer, JAST USA, Denpasoft, and Sekai Project.

14: Adachi and Shimamura

English audiences were finally treated this year to Hitoma Iruma’s long-running and wildly successful Yuri light novel series, Adachi and Shimamura. Although the story struggles to gain traction, dedicated readers’ have their patience rewarded with a sweet tale full of gay pining. Alternatively, you can jump into its stellar anime adaptation, with gorgeous visuals and realized characters you will actually be willing to put up with the annoying Yashiro just to see where the title characters go. The series shows no sign of slowing down either, as the manga adaptation is coming to Western audiences next year.

Adachi and Shimamura is available to stream on Funimation. The light novel series is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3rTSZTK

Honorable Mention: Happy Go Lucky Days

The OVA adaptation of Fragtime got most of the attention this year. Still, director Takuya Satou and Pony Canyon also gave us this much-overlooked “love is love” anthology movie based on Takako Shimura’s manga (Sweet Blue Flowers, Wandering Son). The first short in the film, “Happy,” is easily the best Yuri anime of the year. It follows the beautiful yet realistic queer love story of two women hooking up at a mutual ex-girlfriend’s wedding, only for the relationship to blossom and warm viewers’ hearts. Sadly, while stylized, the budget demanded the animation cut a few too many corners. Additionally, the subsequent stories are at best tedious and at worst alarmingly problematic, which is why Happy Go Lucky Days only gets an honorable mention.

The OVA is streaming on HIDIVE

13: Mieri Hiranishi

The Yuri scene has many colorful creators with a breadth of different ideas and stories in the genre, yet few have provided as much humor and joy as Mieri. This talented creator spectacularly tumbled into the scene with her manga essay The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Straight, which embodies the brutal honesty and realism of Nagata Kabi and matches it with exaggerated hilarity. She continues to chronicle her painful struggles of being a butch girl in love with butch girls in the monthly series The Girl that Can’t Get a Girlfriend. Alternatively, you can follow her on Twitter for just as much heart and laughter.

Read The Girl that Can’t get a Girlfriend on Tapas and Webtoon.

12: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

My Next Life as a Villainess has what can only be described as volcanic bisexual energy. Every character protagonist Catarina Claes encounters is entirely enthralled by her. Of course, she is far too preoccupied with her quest to avoid doom flags and change her ultimate fate to notice any romantic interest. The series is rewarding and well structured, as views are just as focused on how Catarina plans to avoid certain doom as they are with the various romantic misses her band of companions cooks up. While the “friendship ending” did not capitalize on its Yuri potential, it was perhaps the most satisfying possibility for this crazy harem, at least until season two comes out, which looks, unfortunately, to be significantly less queer.

My Next Life as a Villainess is streaming on Crunchyroll

11: Love Me for Who I Am

Kata Konayama’s manga series is less Yuri than a general LGBT work, but it has a lesbian character and explores her identity and struggles in great detail. Few titles before have captured the exciting and nervous waves of emotions that young people feel as they explore gender and sexual identities and try to find themselves. This heartfelt and extremely queer series rubberbands between cute moe dress up to tragic and gripping backstory, keeping readers on their toes the whole time.

Love me for Who I Am is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3rTSZTK

10: A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Oracle and Bone’s debut visual novel, A Summer’s End, is set in a vibrant and electric 1980’s Hong Kong. Drawing inspiration from classic Asian cinema, music, and fashion. The worlds of Michelle, a young office worker, and a free-spirited woman named Same collide. The two struggle to comprehend and accept each other’s feelings just as they struggle against society’s expectations and prejudices. An incredibly thoughtful and touching adventure, the creators incorporated vital contemporary elements include Asian LGBTQ rights and growing political unrest in Hong Kong, into this illustrious game.

The visual novel is available on Steam.

Honorable Mention: Goodbye, My Rose Garden

In the same vein as A Summer’s End, Goodbye, My Rose Garden is a beautiful period piece that incorporates LGBT views into its shattering narrative. The story follows a bright-eyed immigrant, Hanako, wanting to make a new life in England as an author at the dawn of the twentieth century. She takes a job as a maid to noblewoman Alice, but their relationship takes a turn when Alice asks Hanako to kill her. This poignant tale is beautiful and an honest depiction of love and its conflict with responsibility and society.

Goodbye, My Rose Garden is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/3hFSyaG

9: Shio Usui

Usui’s hit Shaikaijin Yuri manga Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon could easily take this spot even though it is not even out in English until February 2021. The manga is already making waves and receiving constant praise. The characters and their journey to discover love and self-acceptance are as charming as they are relatable and grounded. However, it is the creator, Usui, who really deserves acclaim. Not just for their work on Doughnuts, but having a second serialized story, Onna Tomodachi to Kekkon Shitemita, in monthly Yuri magazine Comic Yuri Hime simultaneously. It is even more remarkable when you consider these two iconic stories are Usui’s first long-running works, as they only contributed one-shots before.

8: Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka

Bloom Into You is possibly the most iconic Yuri series in the past decade, and while the manga deserves its own place on this list, the best thing to come out of the series as a whole is easily the light novels. This trilogy by Adachi and Shimamura creator Hitoma Iruma dives deep into supporting cast member Sayaka. Readers are treated to a delightful journey as she discovers her sexuality, experiences heartbreak, and finally finds herself breaking free and falling in love. With the help of gorgeous illustrations by Nakatani Nio herself, Iruma masterfully captures Sayaka’s unique voice and emotions in this wonderful series. Whether a fan of the originals or not, every Yurijin must check out Regarding Saeki Sayaka.

The light novel series is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3hFSyaG

7: Our Teachers are Dating

The best a Yuri can get. This workplace romance follows two teachers at the start of a new relationship taking nervous yet enthusiastic first steps, including saying I love you, going on their first date, and even sleeping together. It is so heartfelt and salacious that readers will squeal the whole time. Additionally, our heroines are supported in their relationship by everyone they know, their students, colleagues, and even the principal. It is a perfect world for these two lovebirds! Our Teachers are Dating would easily be number one or two in any other year, but the competition is fierce in 2020. So even though this is only number seven, it is still a master class Yuri manga.

The manga is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/38XY3O9

6: Amongst Us

Who would have thought that a comedy alternative universe story spinoff of a fantasy action series would be the single best Yuri webcomic this year? Shilin’s astounding artwork illustrations the hilarious and irresistible journey of girlfriends Blackbird and Veloce. These two eccentric young women get into all kinds of everyday mischief that bounces between tender and touching romance, completely outrageous comedy, and downright thirst-inducing sorcery. Seriously, you should buy the first volume for Veloce’s back muscles alone. The storyline skips between time, but both their established relationship and their meeting as teenagers are adorkable and captivating.

Amongst Us is available online free on Webtoon and the comic’s website. The first volume is in paperback on Shilin’s site.

Honorable Mention: Éclair

There are a lot of Yuri anthologies out there, and they have done some beautiful things. Many focus on themes like Syrup. Others collect a series of stories by an author into one bound work. However, out of all of them, Éclair is the most successful. ASCII Media Works took some of the genre’s most extraordinary creators and let them do whatever they wanted, and the results are spectacular. The incredible talent behind Éclair somehow packs a full volume’s worth of story and character into just a few pages with every chapter. While the first volume came overseas a few years ago, Yen Press gave Yurijin a gift this year by releasing the entire rest of the series in which readers can get lost.

The anthology series is published by Yen Press - https://amzn.to/38XY3O9

5: I’m in Love with the Villainess

A small trend of isekai Yuri with villainesses emerged recently, and I honestly had few hopes of I’m in Love with the Villainess. The series is pretty popular, but I often find that this does not denote quality, and with isekai having some institutional issues, I suspected this would fall flat. Then the volume three cover showcased an incredible accomplishment, allowing for a lesbian relationship to blossom into a family with children, and it blew me away. Finally, I read volume one and realized that the series has incredible character, some of the best world-building I have ever seen in a light novel, thoughtful discussions of inequality and societal issues, and most impressively, open and frank discussion of queer identity and life Yuri has ever seen! This one is something special.

The series is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/3nedvdZ

4: The Last of Us Part II

Yes, I know this one is not Yuri and that a portion of the population despises this game and will likely be exceptionally angry at me for including it. However, I maintain that it was an incredibly challenging masterpiece. Naughty Dog did not take the easy route out and delivered one of the most devastating media experiences I have ever seen. As I said in my article about the game, playing it changed me, and it sticks with me to this day. The Last of Us Part II earns its spot on this list because it pushed boundaries more with LGBTQ inclusion than any other AAA game. From brave inclusion of LGBTQ themes to queer characters and storylines at its center, the game changes gaming and it will never go back.

The Last of Us Part II is available on PlayStation 4

3: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

She-Ra feels like the culmination of all the LGBTQ progress western cartoons have made over the past few years. From The Legend of Korra to Steven Universe, young people are finally seeing more LGBTQ people represented on the small screen. This epic fantasy concluded with an amazing and powerful lesbian romance, delivering on its queer promise and revolutionized representation in a trope-defying crescendo.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is streaming on Netflix

2: The Conditions of Paradise

The greatest single Yuri work of all in 2020 was the English release of Akiko Morishima’s breakthrough manga, The Conditions of Paradise. Initially released in 2007, this anthology detailed the love between adult women. It was in every way a manga ahead of its time, and seeing it finally get a small piece of the recognition it deserves overseas is a true gift. The fact that we can own this legendary piece of Yuri history and Morishima’s other anthologies is nothing short of a blessing from the Yuri goddess.

The Conditions of Paradise is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/38bh4xq

Honorable Mention: Otherside Picnic

This eerie sci-fi horror series combines the best of pulse-pounding thrillers, complex and intelligent hard science fiction, and exciting Yuri romance. Author Iori Miyazawa spends as much time crafting a well-paced and intriguing narrative about a mysterious world where occult creatures roam as he does establishing two believable and grounded heroes in Sorawo and Toriko. The romance between the two may be slow to start, but their chemistry is undeniable and as the stakes and story build, so too does their relationship. Not only are the light novels incredible, but the series’ manga adaptation is coming soon to the West as well as an upcoming TV anime in early 2021.

Otherside Picnic is streaming on Funimation. The light novels are published by J-Novel Club - https://amzn.to/3niiv1g

1. Yuri subgenres

For a long time, Yuri was not a genre of its own, but elements of romances or bonds between women found in other works. Now, thanks to an increasing library of works, the advent of social media, and a wider audience, Yuri is a genre on its own, with many creators telling different stories in different styles. However, 2020 saw the continued emergence of something extraordinary, subgenres. Yuri is now so vast, we can actually categorize the works within. Depending on their characters, like classic schoolgirl romances or spicy shakaijin office affairs, their world, such as fantasy or isekai series and thrilling science fiction adventures, and even other elements within. One of my personal favorites is the feminist Yuri that emerges from titles like Sexiled, where women celebrate the accomplishments of other women and dismantle power structures stacked against them. Now, no matter what kind of Yurijin you are, there is something for you to love.

I am happy to leave 2020 behind, but I bring with me a renewed love and admiration for Yuri. 2021 looks to be a somehow even better year for the genre, and I am thrilled to experience every minute of it that I can. Yuri has transformed into something far greater than I ever thought it would be, and let us all enjoy its evolution and expansion together in 2021.

#yuri #manga #anime #top 10 #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #girls love #gl #adachi and shimamura #otherside picnic #lists #2020 #happy new year #2021 #new year

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carllisle · 3 years

Note

How do you think Esme argued with Rosalie, Emmett or Edward? How is she dealing with their shenanigans? Could you imagine first argument between her and Edward?

sorry it’s taken so long for me to get to this ask! thank you for asking, it means a lot that you have asked my opinion! i hope you're having a lovely day/evening/night

so in midnight sun we get a glimpse of how understanding and patient Esme is on the day of the baseball game when Edward notes that Esme had been trying to talk to Rosalie all afternoon about Bella and the Bella/Edward situation and even that they were holding hands when they were talking abt it on the baseball field. Edward also notes earlier that when Rosalie was first turned, Esme had a great deal of patience with Rosalie. Now, let’s be real, no one has an endless amount of patience, not even a vampire and there must have been something that would make her crack. I think that Esme was a willing ear when Rosalie mourned the human life she lost and how much she hates immortality and resents Carlisle for giving it to her. She probably encouraged Rosalie to talk to Carlisle about it to get it all out in the open and move past it as best as she could, but after a few years of still being resentful to Carlisle and calling him all the names under the sun Esme probably snaps. This would probably be because she saw how much Carlisle was hurting from Rosalie’s words and how much that added to his self-loathing. I think she argued with Rosalie and pointed out as sensitively as she could that without Carlisle, Rosalie would be dead and wouldn’t have any kind of life, and isn’t this half-life better than nothing? Would she really prefer death over life with Emmett? And that Carlisle thought he was doing the right thing by saving her! he deserves forgiveness and understanding, just as she deserves patience and compassion. I think Rosalie scoffed and said she never asked to be saved but after Esme put it like that she perhaps did some reflection and came to forgive him somewhat because after all he did give her some kind of life, and he gave her Emmett.

Clearly Esme and Rosalie are very close but I think Rosalie’s stubbornness is perhaps a point of contention for them. Esme is also kind and compassionate and I think someone like Rosalie would find that annoying sometimes, because sometimes she just wants to rant and rave and be angry without someone trying to fix it, you know? Sometimes she just needs to have a good bitch about something and not have Esme try to fix it or ‘look on the bright side’.

As Emmett is fairly easy-going and so is Esme, I can’t think of anything specific that they would argue about. Probably just small little tiffs here and there that are to be expected between adults that live in the same household - dirty shoes in the house, being messy/not doing his share of the household chores, getting irritated at her nagging, just common stuff. Given her past, when Edward and Emmett were rough-housing after his transformation I’m not sure she would have the courage to ask them to be more careful right away and maybe Carlisle asked them on her behalf. Later on in their relationship, I’m sure it became more of a reminder than an argument. Maybe she found his cavalier attitude about slip-ups upsetting, as Emmett seems to find slip-ups as an unavoidable part of their nature, whereas I imagine Esme to be deeply affected by each life she takes. Perhaps when he is trying to comfort her after she kills someone he makes an off-hand remark about how these things happen, it’s alright, and she blows up at him because she is so upset and she drills into him how it’s not alright. I’m not sure it would be an argument, though, because Emmett would likely apologise and so would she for misdirecting her anger at him.

God with Edward it’s so hard to know because SMeyer is criminal in writing Esme’s devotion to her son. We’re supposed to believe that she was happy to leave Bella in New Moon, because of Edward’s remarks in Midnight Sun that Esme didn’t care about anything except his happiness, but I call bull. SMeyer writes her so 2-dimensionally. Esme is such a kind and loving person and over the summer between Twilight and New Moon we can only assume that Bella spent a huge amount of time with the Cullens and that her relationship with them all developed immensely. In my head, this means especially Alice, Emmett, and Esme. Look how devastated she was when they left, and in New Moon it’s explicitly clear that it’s not just because Edward left, but because they all did! Now would Esme be happy about Edward deciding to leave her instead of turn her? Absolutely not. Would she try to put her foot down and convince him to stay? Yes. When he argued back and refused to be swayed by her, would she ultimately follow his wishes? Unfortunately yes. I imagine there was still an argument between the two of them as Esme could easily put herself in Bella’s shoes and imagine what it would do to her.

Esme joined Carlisle and Edward during Edward’s early years as a vampire and perhaps there were remarks made when Edward accidentally heard her thoughts and she resented that (even though she knew it was not his fault). She likes Tanya a lot and probably tried to get Edward to reciprocate Tanya’s affections or at least give her a chance and Edward firmly answered why he didn’t want Tanya in that way. Similar to her arguments with Rosalie, I think Esme argued with Edward about their nature as vampires. In my head, Esme is in touch with her faith as a Christian, always working to make sure her faith evolves with the world and always working on her relationship with God, scripture, and those she loves. I think she fundamentally disagrees with Edward about their souls and argues that they are not damned, they are not soulless, and they are not evil. She argues that Edward is not evil despite his countless murders nor is he damned for them, at which point Edward replies that he doesn’t regret his murders and he is not sorry, therefore he cannot ask forgiveness and he cannot be absolved, and he is doomed to the fiery pits below. Esme huffs but can’t fault his logic. So I imagine they have theological debates that can stray into passionate arguments. Carlisle is left on the sidelines and once again is stuck between the beliefs of his son, and the beliefs of his wife, still not knowing which argument he agrees with more.

In terms of their first argument, I think it was about Charles. I’ve explored it in my long fic This New Life (ch 12 if ur interested teehee) where Edward is so enraged by the memories of him that Esme has that he wants to hunt him down. At this point in time Edward has never killed a person and despite the built up rage he had for Charles, Esme didn’t want him to go after him because she couldn’t bear for Edward to kill a person - even a person like that - in her name. I think she argued passionately for him to let Charles live because she couldn’t have lived with the guilt if Edward had killed him. She feared that it would be a mark on Edward’s soul and she would look at Edward and see the sin and see the man she hated. I think this argument was pretty passionate. Once Carlisle knew the extent of what Charles had done I believe he sided reluctantly with Edward for a while and agreed that Charles did not deserve to live, although deep down Carlisle wanted to exact revenge for the horrors committed against the woman he loved. After Esme pointed out (passionately, emotionally) that they were trying to control her and make decisions for her just like Charles had done, Carlisle backed off and allowed his mind to be changed and he joined Esme in asking Edward not to go against her wishes.

Once he got back from his travels as feminist vigilante legend, a trip during which Charles was his first ever victim, I think Esme was so overwhelmed to have him home that she didn’t even care about Charles. Edward justified himself pretty quickly by saying that he would have gone on this spree anyway and committed all these murders, so he was just one in many, and that was good enough for Esme tbf, and it allowed her to move on finally.

Sorry, this got really long and rambly but I hope it made sense! Thank you again for asking!

#anon #ask #this new life #headcanon #ellie writes

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itsinmydunah · 3 years

Text

To Keep Each Other Safe

rated: T

Words: 3,943

Summary: Sometimes a fun hunting trip can go sideways.

A/N: A list of more specific warnings below in the end notes for those who are concerned.

Esme and Carlisle are my faves. I’m always lusting after more material for them. This one has literally been on my ipad for 3 years, incomplete. Finally got around to fixing it up. I may come back and make the ending more to my liking. Crossposted on ao3.

Let me know what you think!

——————-

Carlisle was scheduled for a long shift at the hospital so the family had decided to drag Esme along so she wouldn’t be at home alone. She laughs as Emmett playfully drags her out of the house.

“C’mon, Esme! You don’t have to always be the doting wife waiting on Carlisle. Come have funnnnn with usss!” Rosalie shakes her head at her husband’s antics, running beside Esme as Jasper and Edward sprint off as fast as they can. They’re hours from home in the Canadian wilderness when they all part ways to go after their own animals. Emmett, Jasper, and Edward are more partial to large game that puts up a bit of a fight so they head farther into the forest. Esme finds herself parted from her daughters as they all search out their meals. There’s the rustle of deer off to her right and perhaps a moose—

Then there’s a sudden waft of a scent much sweeter than animal blood - and much more tempting. Esme holds her breath, frantic eyes darting around. The human didn’t smell close, but she didn’t want to further the temptation. She also doesn’t want for any of the kids to happen upon the human. None of them enjoyed killing people, and she didn’t want their fun hunting trip to turn into a reason for anyone to feel guilty.

She picks up the scent of her boys - the ones most likely to have a slip-up - and heads towards them. Before Esme can get much farther, she is knocked to the ground by a solid mass. The noise the collision causes is akin to a thunderclap. It’s completely unexpected, and she isn’t trained to anticipate attacks like Jasper. After nearly 100 years of peace with her found family, she doesn’t foresee violence around every corner as she had when married to Charles.

Esme squirms beneath the much larger body, the strength of the being easily quadrupling her own. She tries to scream but can’t. Her feet grapple for purchase on the snowy ground as she claws with diamond-hard nails at the figure pressing her down. She’s always chosen to be a pacifist. But, knocked down to the ground with a hand around her neck trying to wrench her head from her body, she wishes she had joined her children in play-fighting.

Esme feels helpless as she hears her skin begin to crack under the immense strength of the vampire above her.

She hardly remembers what pain feels like. The only particular moments she can recall is childbirth and being turned. This sudden onslaught, however, jogs her memory of other suffering. Of her first husband Charles raping her. Of him beating her. Of crawling on the cold tile of a bathroom with a swollen eye and bleeding nose. Being pushed down the stairs when dinner wasn’t good enough. Being tied to the bedposts over night until her wrists chafed so she couldn’t ‘disrupt’ Charles. Those memories had fallen somewhat to the wayside in the 94 years she'd been a vampire. The joy of being with Carlisle, of building a family with him and growing to love herself had pushed her human pains to the back of her complex mind.

Now, though, it’s all she can think about.

The vampire gets a bite in on her shoulder, and the sting begins immediately. Another to her neck, eerily close to where Carlisle had bitten her to change her. A last bite to her cheek has enough force behind it to rip, almost tear her diamond-hard skin away. She feels air flow under the wound, knows that her cheekbone must be exposed. She wants so badly to screech. Her kicking and bucking does nothing to dislodge the body above her. Despite not needing air, she feels suffocated, claustrophobic.

She wants free!!

She finally gets a scream out and is almost immediately freed. Edward. He must have heard her thoughts of terror and tracked her location. Edward and the vampire were both crouched in front of each other, growling. Esme remained on the ground, fingers curled into the cold slushy dirt below her. Suddenly she is pulled up by a gentle hand. A familiar scent fills her nose.

Rosalie.

“Esme?” Rose is good at staying calm when the need arises, always has been. For all her theatrics, she is a level-headed girl. Her voice now, however, gives Esme pause. She sounds frantic. “Are you alright? Esme?”

Esme looks down and sees that she’s trembling. Her hands are shaking, her knees are unsteady. Her clothes are torn, and there’s venom dripping from the bite marks on her body. She looks up to meet Rose’s eyes and suddenly her daughter knows. They have an unfortunately similar past.

“Oh, Esme.” Her daughter wraps warm arms around her.

Jasper, Emmett, and Alice are all surrounding the newborn in an instant, joining Edward in keeping the hissing figure corralled.

“He was just turned. He's confused. Mostly he's angry. He was on the trail of a human hiker until Esme came into his territory. He thought Esme was going to take his hunt." Edward relays the thoughts of the newborn, his gaze remaining fixed on the violent newcomer.

“Do you know who you are?” Jasper asks, his body transforming into a non-threatening stance. He has the most experience with newborns, he knows how they read body language.

The newborn just hisses and makes to attack who he sees as the easiest target - Alice. Alice is quick, dodging the attack and leading the newborn closer to Jasper. The blonde man has little patience for those who threaten his mate and family. He has the yowling newborn in a chokehold in seconds.

“Edward?” Jasper inquires. This momentary lapse in attention is enough for the newborn to sink his teeth into Jasper's arm. At this, Alice hisses, angered that her mate will feel pain. Emmett is there, yanking the newborn's head back, eyes darting to Rosalie’s. Rose nods, eyes flinty as she stays beside Esme, a comforting presence.

The newborn's head is torn off in a second. Emmett, Edward, and Jasper set about making a fire in a clearing and burning the body. Even the thick smoke doesn’t serve to pull Esme from her trance-like state. She remains shaky and catatonic - a statue stuck in its own misery.

“Esme." Alice joins the two, squeezing her way into the hug. Esme knows her well enough to know that she believes this is partially her fault for not seeing ahead to stop the attack. Esme, however, could never blame her. Instead she sinks into them all, unable to fully support herself. Jasper comes in close, right by his wife's shoulder.

"May I?" She knows what he's asking, and gratefully extends her dirty hand. He cups it in both of his and sends soothing waves her way. Love, tenderness, sympathy, understanding - everything he feels for her. He can't leech pain, but he can lessen it by increasing her pleasant emotions, allowing her to take some of his strength. The emotions he’s sending are made all the stronger by the contact.

She wants to thank him, but for some reason there’s an ache in her throat. Her vampire body doesn’t feel aches and bruises the way a human’s does. There is no blood gushing everywhere, just venom injuries or torn limbs and flesh. This feeling is like nothing she’s experienced before. Cold, like shock.

Jasper seems to understand, however, the gratefulness she can’t yet voice. "Of course, mama." Under normal circumstances hearing him say that would make her so happy. Jasper was older than her technically, and often felt foolish calling Esme "mother" even if he did see her as the matriarch of the family. For him to indulge her so meant that he could truly feel how much pain she was in.

“Esme,” Edward comes to her side, his eyes sorrowful. He can read the static-like buzz of her thoughts, can hear the low pained howl her mind is letting out. He shrugs out of his coat and dislodges Alice and Rose to wrap her up to preserve her modesty. “Would you like to head home, Esme?” He’s so gentle with her, straightening her hair out over collar of the coat and keeping his tone low. Edward remembers what it was like for her in the beginning, the flashes she got of her terrible marriage and the abuse she suffered. He remembers what things triggered her in the early days. He experienced it all along with her and helped her move past it and embrace her gentle soul and kind spirit.

It makes him ache to see her sent back to that time, even if just in memory.

Esme doesn’t speak, merely nods.

“Someone call Carlisle,” Edward murmurs, hooking an arm around his adopted mother. She can hear someone on the phone, hear the quiet tones of her children speaking to each other. She can’t make out the individual words, but the hum of their voices is a comfort.

Her first son indicates for her to climb onto his back. She hesitates for the first time since the incident. She hates to appear weak to her children. She likes the role she’s taken as comforter and provider and guide.

“Esme, no. We’re a family. We’ve all supported each other when we’ve needed it most. We love you.” Her eyes burn as if they want to release tears. But she can’t cry, hasn’t been able to in nearly a century. Edward gives her a hug, each of her children gather close and offer silent support. She nods her head in readiness and climbs onto Edward’s back, clinging to him tightly, her face in his neck. He squeezes her hands affectionately and they all begin setting back towards Washington. Her whole family remains tightly positioned together, she and Edward in the center of their group. Emmett spearheads and Rose and Jasper are beside them. Despite her still shocky state, she feels much safer.

When they’re close to Vancouver, Carlisle all but runs into them. His hair is severely windswept. If he were human he would’ve been winded from exertion and anxiety. The moment he received the call from Alice saying Esme had been attacked, he’d yelled an excuse to a coworker and left. He swore he’d never run so fast in his whole existence. His eyes lock on to his wife clinging to Edward, noting how somber their children’s faces are. Even Emmett looks dead serious. There’s no teasing about how fast Carlisle got there - just a respectful nod.

“Darling,” he approaches cautiously, not knowing where Esme’s mindset is. The call had startled him so thoroughly that he didn’t know what he was getting into. His hand rests softly on her back, rubbing soothingly. In his mind he asks how she’s doing. Edward says nothing, just shrugs a bit. Esme’s thoughts are all over the place.

The movement seems to arouse Esme to her whereabouts. She had been able to smell Carlisle close, but her mind was a wreck. Focusing on any one stimuli was too much. Nonetheless, she looks up to her husband. Her face immediately crumples. He sees the new bite mark on her face, the skin is angry looking from being viscously torn off the bone. It had to have been truly violent to have caused enough damage for healing to still be occurring so long afterwards.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Carlisle says, pained. He can’t help himself from taking her from Edward, from holding her tightly to him. She hisses when he brushes against her shoulder, and he looks at her in alarm. He gently eases the jacket away - now noticing that it’s Edwards, not her own - and sees how her shirt is torn. His eyes are then drawn to the bite on her shoulder and one that is overlapping the bite he placed on her neck to turn her. He can smell the venom of another on her, and his nostrils flare disapprovingly. Esme sees this, eyes cast towards the ground. Carlisle shakes his head, angry at himself for falling prey to his instincts. He hooks a finger under her chin gently, careful not to bother any of her wounds, and presses a kiss to her forehead in a benediction.

Their children are still near, but have moved out of visibility to give the illusion of privacy. It is against their instincts to go far away when their matriarch is harmed.

“I’m so sorry, Esme. My darling wife.” He wraps her up tight, arms banding around her smaller body, and she clasps to his front with her legs wrapped about his waist and good arm around his neck. “Should have been there with you. Failed you - oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. You must be hurting so.” He keeps whispering to her, pressing kisses to her hair, fingers gentle on her back as he soothes her (which in turn, soothes himself).

“Carlisle, please.” Her first words spoken since the attack are gravelly, her throat tight.

“Darling, what do you need?” He’s so ready to bend to her every whim, always has been. His existence had been so empty before her.

“To go home. Want to be in our home surrounded by our family and be safe.”

“Of course.”

He sets her down in their living room. Alice fetches his old-fashioned doctor’s bag that houses his most basic supplies. Carlisle removes gauze and sterile wet wipes. He seems to hesitate as he reaches for her face, eyes scanning over the bite there and the area of healing torn skin.

“This will hurt,” he murmurs, stroking over her unharmed cheek gently.

Esme nods absently. He knows to help speed up the process of healing and lessen the pain, he must remove as much of the foreign venom as he can. That requires opening the cuts and siphoning the venom out. To let the venom sit is to let it permeate and cause further irritation. No man-made metal tools are strong enough, so he must use his own nails to cut open his wife’s skin.

It’s not a task he’s looking forward to. But it is something that must be done.

Edward is close at his side, ready to lend a hand. Jasper sits next to Esme, sending calming vibes her way, Alice at his side. Rosalie stands behind her, stroking her hair and humming gently. Emmett is a steady presence nearby. Everyone is ready to support her, and despite the recent occurrences, she feels so lucky to have them all. This aid was something she had prayed for at her worst times.

Carlisle takes a steadying breath, and slices over the cut with his fingernail. Esme holds in a hiss as the clear venom leaks out. Carlisle takes a syringe of sterile saline and flushes the wound, patting with the gauze. He is paced and methodical in his work. This isn’t far off from what he spends his days at work doing. He keeps his eyes on the wounds, tries not to think too hard about the attack that caused it. If he does, he’ll drive himself mad. He’ll try to save the self-flagellation for when he is away from his dear wife, away from his son who is forced to witness his every thought.

His fingers slide over her cheek when he’s done cleaning the area. The tissue can now heal without a pocket of venom beneath it to irritate the process. Despite his careful work, a pale scar is already forming on the high point of her cheekbone. He tries hard not to fixate on it. There will be no way to get rid of it, to save Esme from this new addition to her visage.

Her neck is next. Carlisle slices open the skin over the poorly healing cut and immediately squirts sterile water over it. Esme hisses, trembling fingers squeezing at his knee. He murmurs an apology, leans down to press a kiss to her crown before resuming his work. The damage here isn’t nearly as dire as what was done to her face. For this, he is glad. More force applied to her neck could’ve meant her head could’ve been ripped clean off and —

Edward grunts and gives Carlisle a look.

The doctor closes his eyes for a moment. Best not to focus on how his wife could’ve died and he could be a widow right now if not for his kids.

Esme’s shoulder is last. Carlisle has to pull Edward’s jacket off to see the wound clearly. The tattered remains of Esme’s shirt cling weakly to her body. There are tears where the newborn’s nails ripped through. Carlisle had had a cursory look before, but now he really takes in the damage done. There is a quick inhale from Rosalie, and Carlisle can’t help but look up.

His daughter’s gaze is riveted to where Esme’s shirt is torn. Her brow is furrowed and her eyes haunted.

“Rose...” Emmett stands behind his wife and wraps her up tight in his arms. Edward sends a rare sympathetic glance her way, a hand moving to cover one of hers. For once Rosalie doesn’t hiss and shake him off.

Esme cranes her head cautiously, wincing at the tug on her skin the action causes. “Rosie, you don’t have to be here, honey.” His wife, even when in her own pain, always thinks of others. She and Rosalie share a violent past and understand each other in a way none of the others do.

“No, Esme. I’m here. I just...” Rosalie grimaces and snarls silently. Her teeth are bared and her face enraged at her own memories and the violence done to her mother. Emmett clenches his eyes shut in sympathetic pain behind her; he truly hates to see his mate in pain.

“I love you. Thank you, honey.” Rose gives Esme a wobbly smile and bends to kiss her hair. The blonde woman murmurs her affection into her mother’s locks.

Carlisle is so glad to have this family that supports each other. Suffering alone is terrible, he knows that much. He recalls cold nights alone and no one to commiserate with or help carry the burden of their existence.

“You alright if I finish this up, love?” He indicates to her shoulder. Esme nods, looking impossibly exhausted. Carlisle gently removes the tatters of her shirt and bra, noting how everyone in the room respectfully averts their gaze.

There are claw marks diagonally from Esme’s lower ribs, over her right breast, and up to her trapezius. The marks are a bright white but will fade back into Esme’s normal skin tone because of the lack of venom. Still, they look uncomfortable. The only area Carlisle can really help with is the bite at the cap of Esme’s shoulder. There is the distinct scent of foreign venom clinging to this spot. Once again, Carlisle slices in and flushes the area. Esme barely flinches at this last one. He hates that she’s grown so brave.

Carlisle pats the last irrigated wound, “all done, darling.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead, pushes her mussed hair back. There are twigs and mud clumped in her curls.

Esme leans forward and collapses into his chest. He catches her easily, wrapping her tightly in his hold. She’s soon curled into his lap with her face in his neck. “Can you clean my hair?” She asks quietly.

“Anything,” he says fervently, lifting her carefully and making his way to their bathroom. He hears the kids converge to sit in a circle of comfort near Rosalie.

Carlisle is so careful with her that she could cry. He washes the mud from her hair with a softly scented shampoo and smooths his fingers through to ensure that there’re no tangles. She’s seated in their large tub, knees drawn to her chest. Carlisle mindfully runs a loofah over her healing neck and shoulder, sluicing away the scent of the other vampire.

“I love you so much,” he whispers as he watches the water run over her pale skin.

Esme shifts in the tub to face him, still seated. “And I love you.” Carlisle cups her face in both of his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks as he just stares at her. His touch is so deliberate yet passionate. His eyes seem almost glassy as he pushes a strand of her wet hair from her face.

“I am happier than I can ever convey that you are safe.” If Carlisle had the capability, he would be crying. Knowing that Esme was almost lost to him is a harrowing thought. As soon as she came into his life, she became integral.

Esme suddenly stands, water streaming down her body as she steps out of the bathtub. Carlisle rises and grabs a fluffy towel for her, moving to begin to dry her off. He treats each limb of her body with tenderness. A separate towel is used to wring water from her hair. Carlisle is painstakingly cautious with her curls.

They move into the bedroom and Esme slips into one of Carlisle’s sweaters, some fuzzy socks, and a pair of soft shorts. Even though she doesn’t get cold, she still enjoys cozy clothing. She holds out her hand and Carlisle follows her without question. The instinct to be close is always present after something so harrowing.

The others are still huddled downstairs. At the sight of their matriarch, they make space on the couch. Esme cuddles in next to her husband and Rosalie. Alice, from her spot on Jasper’s lap, looks restless. “Esme... I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming. He must have caught the scent of the you before the vision could even come to me.”

Esme turns to look at her smallest ‘daughter’. She knows how heavily Alice relies on her visions to keep everyone safe. She isn’t a big, hulking being but she still loves her family fiercely. “I don’t blame you, Alice. Not one bit. The only person to blame is the newborn, and even he is difficult to blame because he was so young and no one showed him any better.”

Edward scoffs and shakes his head in wonder. “You and Carlisle are far too kind.”

Esme, in a surprising show of immaturity, rolls her eyes. “I’m certainly not okay with what happened. I’m.... still very uncomfortable,” she admits. Anything that reminded her of Charles and her previous suffering was unwelcome. She doesn’t like falling back into those memories. They make her feel small and scared again.

Carlisle smooths a large hand down her arm and tries to imbue all the love he can into the simple touch. He presses a kiss to her cleaned curls, breathing in the scent of her, safe and sound.

“We won’t let it happen again.” Edward says with an unearned confidence.

“You can’t promise that, sweetheart,” Esme chastises gently. Edward huffs because he knows she’s correct. “The only promise I ever need is that you all will be a support when needed.”

“Always,” Emmett assures. Rosalie nods beside him, her eyes determined. Jasper sends Esme waves of affirmation.

“That’s the most I can hope for. Having you all makes me very lucky.” Carlisle hugs her tight to his side.

“We’re the ones who are lucky to have you.” A ghost of a smile crosses Esme’s lips at her husband’s words. She presses a kiss to his neck and nuzzles in close. The comfort of her family soothes her. Despite her inability to sleep, she feels like this security in their presence is therapeutic. The murmurs of her family wrap her up warmly. She knows that everyone will be sticking close to her for the coming months.

————-

More in-depth warnings: In general, be aware that there are mentions of past assaults during Esme and Rose’s human lives. Mentions of Esme’s human husband, Charles. There are also mild descriptions of injuries done to a vampire.

#carlesme #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #twilight #twilight fic #fanfic #my fanfiction #rated: t #edward cullen #rosalie hale #jasper cullen #alice cullen #emmett cullen

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escxpiism · 3 years

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( olivia holt, 23, she/her ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ALICE ADAMS. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE MASK if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re ADAPTABLE but JADED, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CATFISHED DAVID HASSELHOFF. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

hi y’all !! i’m may ( 21 // est // she/her ) and i am super super pumped to be here !! i’m also very much writing this against my better judgment ya girl’s running on four hours of sleep and has the option to sleep more but......... is not tired ?? so i do apologize if my mind is secretly tired and makes this intro,,,, even worse than it would be fahouedn. on with the show !! anyway anyway!! feel free to like this if u wld like 2 plot and i will hit u up!!

( also, for some vibes if you so choose to read, here’s the link to her playlist ! )

----------------------------------------------------

QUICK FACTS:

full name: alice audrey adams

date of birth: october 26th, 1997

*will not perfectly reflect the zodiac big three below because that’s.... math.

zodiac big three: scorpio sun, virgo moon, taurus rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual

education: ged, bachelor’s degree in film — pratt institute

enneagram: 4w3

mbti: enfp

temperament: sanguine-melancholic

label: the mask

various inspirations: “nutshell” - alice in chains, “santa monica” - everclear, “polly” - nirvana, “jennifer’s body” - hole, “creep” - stone temple pilots, kate wallis ( cruel summer - shhhh ), heather davis ( crazy ex-girlfriend ), satana hellstrom ( marvel comics ), bojack horseman - without the amount of problematic ego ( bojack horseman ), eddie huang ( fresh off the boat ), the great britney spears evolution ( temporarily stopping at circus era )

BACKSTORY:

triggers in order: toxic family dynamic, grooming (nothing super in-depth), kidnapping (? like it was ‘willing’ but no. see next trigger for why), toxic “relationship” (and 11yr age gap w/ a 16y/o we hate it), straight-up captivity, very brief mention of suicide + heroin (very!)

*would like to quickly preface that this isn’t just Dark for the sake of being r/im14andthisisdeep but that’s for a later time **(also! i have markers for where the grooming + Super Dark parts begin and end! -- also, the Super Dark part is all very public knowledge. had articles. media frenzy. first thing that comes up if you google her name) *** also. if u need it then a tl;dr is below this section hfkldsa

alice audrey adams was born to the type of family that names all of their children alliterative names ( however, they sadly didn’t get their own kardashian-style show )... alexis adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... alfie allison adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... born to anna adams and allen adams... we hate it here.

as u can see... all of the kids were basically named after allen... they all had ‘al’ names.... extremely confusing

plot-twist: THAT’S the darkest part

the adams were very concerned with public image. as a family in the upper echelon, they simply had to be! a narcissist father, a distant mother, put in competition with her siblings — there was no truly healthy dynamic in the household. but they looked good. they went to church every sunday, a ‘wwjd’ sticker on the back of her mother’s car. they did just enough activities and took just enough trips together to get the image across. they threw parties. they attended parties. they were the picture perfect american family — they even had two cats in the yard! life used to be so hard!

of course, in reality, this all left ms alice quite the lonely gal. but don’t worry! she didn’t turn to hedonism! lord no! instead, she turned to other people. a lot of friendships — couldn’t tell if they were real or #fortheclout — but at a point, did it matter?

grooming tw: it all came to a screeching halt when she met luke johnson, the son of their neighbors. he came back from california to georgia to visit family, care for his ailing father. oh, he was a good man! sure, he was ‘somewhat’ older than her — 27 when she was 16 — but he was such a good, handsome young man! and they were all still calling him young man, after all.

alice ‘began’ a torrid affair with luke after about a month into his visit. although she saw no immediate wrong in it, he insisted she keep it a secret ‘for the time being’ — which really just made it all the more exciting! he made all the storm clouds that hovered disappear.

one day, the levee broke for alice (still figuring out what exactly happened because i don’t wanna go too dark since this is already extremely dark, but trust that it had something to do with her parents and was just enough to push her over the edge). convinced luke was the only safe person, she turned to him. knowing their small community would catch on and essentially exile him, he took that opportunity to convince her to go back to santa monica with him where they could ‘start anew’ after his father’s death.

there are a few details i plan on adding regarding like. how legality playing into it. but i may just reserve those for an official bio lhakfsdfj

**BEGINNING OF SUPER DARK** for a while, there was the question of whether they should consider it a kidnapping or not. she went with him willingly, but she was still underage (and… you know, that age difference… the power dynamic... gross y’all). the adams insisted that it was (bc it basically was lbr) — primarily because it would make them look far better — but the community still questioned the logistics and legalities of it all… ugh. did the police really wanna deal with that? ugh.

in any case, on the other side of us america, autumn was nearing. alice would have the very occasional inquiry over how school would work (very occasional! don’t worry, luke!), over the logistics of her new life… and, after receiving multiple calls from various friends (in addition to her siblings) that sounded genuine, began wondering… if she’d made the right choice. questions about him.

when she began bringing up the idea of going back — at least for the school year!! — he would continuously remind her that she was not old enough to buy herself a plane ticket (and he was not about to do that). she also couldn’t rent a car yet (and he certainly wouldn’t let her take (one of) his car(s)!). but most importantly? he loved her. and she loved him. (what a creep!)

so, for a hot second, it seemed like she was stuck. damn legalities!! damn love!! you know, until she texted her older sister back with all of the problems that only being 16... and “in love”.... caused. her sister offered to fly down, buy her a plane ticket, and fly back with her.

when luke saw this (with all the unrestricted access to her phone he had so he could block, delete, and manipulate as he pleased), he confronted her. things went awry. she wound up in his budding wine cellar (which he soon emptied, of course… those merlots :( ….). he messaged back and, as her, said it was actually all good!! luke had figured out the logistics and she could call whenever she wanted!!

and those calls became frequent! because she would pick up when luke held it up to her! because she was pretty sure luke would kill her if she didn’t!

she wasn’t sure how long it was until she was officially Found. it took what was ruled a suicide by luke, a shot to the head and heroin in his system, to finally get any authority’s attention. all she knew was that she went to santa monica in mid june and she stopped seeing regular daylight by late july. so some time in august to some time in april… **END OF SUPER DARK + GROOMING**

she was returned to georgia shortly after and everything was different. from herself to her friends. but everything was also the same. from her room to her family. it was all… teasing. she began going to therapy, but she really sucked at it?? so she just let her therapist rely on various articles that covered the event. because it had been a media circus. good enough, amirite??

she didn’t have the will or patience to put on that peppy facade she’d had before, but there were still a few things she found a smidge of joy in. music (although her taste had… slightly altered and wow! it’d been almost a year since she’d picked up that bass!), videography… just those small things, you know??

for the first half of the ~ 2014 fall semester ~, she attempted actual school. really was not working out. with, for probably the first and only time, her parents’ approval and understanding, she dropped out and studied for a ged -- shorter and self-led -- instead.

she passed with a pretty decent grade... but it’s been argued that she really shouldn’t have gotten into pratt institute (she was at least realistic and didn’t apply to, like… cornell), but she did. national news helps.

while in the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, she learned of masters. she submitted an application as a joke — because her grades sucked!!!!! — but guess who got a job?? oh, she could pretend it was because her selected portfolio was actually genuinely good… but, man… we all know…

fun fact: my uncle applied to harvard as a joke. some twenty-five years later, we still haven’t heard back :\

she… continues to suck. like… she kinda wants the place to eventually burn down?? figuratively speaking (or is it…) but ya, for all the monopolizing she has seen turn people Evil?? but the hell can she do about it… just gotta make sure she keeps her in-house videographer job… maybe she can do something about it when she like… is capable. fuaihoelwdjkn

she sees an in-house therapist and i’d say ‘good for her,’ but it was mandated l m a o

doesn’t talk about herself all that much!! but that might not matter for some people, yk?? ugh journalism <3

y’all im so bad at ending intros.

TL;DR:

(consult above trigger list): bright kid in a super rich and toxic family because obviously. everything they did was just to look good <3 also they all had ‘a’ names which is the biggest tragedy of all :( ‘fell in love’ when she was 16ys/o with a 27y/o who was visiting to care for his father in his final days. had a torrid affair. creep. creep (luke) basically made her ‘fall in love.’ she thought creep was the only safe person at one point and creep was like ‘wanna go back 2 santa monica w me?’ and she was like ‘yes.’ and everyone was like ‘was this kidnapping... we cant tell....’ then he became even more possessive when she started questioning him and some logistics. when she finally found a way she could go back to georgia for a spell, he was like ‘no u can go in my wine cellar btw i will be taking all of the wine out.’ he kept her there from august to april and... only reason he didnt keep keeping her was bc he was Caught so. back to georgia where the devil went down. everything was Worse. even the things that were the same. but hey, the sob story that landed her in the news plenty of times got her into a college she shouldn’t have gotten into and gave her a leg-up in a joke application for a job at masters (in-house videographer). really bad at doing her work but like... fuck the man i guess??

PERSONALITY + HEADCANONS:

has no time for Fake Nice (which, as a born southerner, she’s really good at sniffing out!). has no time for arrogance. kind of makes her at odds with the nyc upper class...

on that note, still got a lil bit of some georgia twang

she lets herself indulge in various vices, but has left a previous hedonist status. weed and alcohol are still pretty common, but everything else is kept at arm’s length.

also, while on that topic, she Does Not drink wine. being trapped in a cellar... kinda makes u averse. like. literally despises it. will go on autopilot and make it KNOWN if offered wine.

also ALSO while on that topic, after looking it up and seeing she fits the new york city requirements, she has a medical marijuana card <3 the one good thing, if u ask her, to come out of therapy/psychiatry <3 will not show it off unless absolutely NECESSARY bc then it gets personal or <3 will lie about why and say it’s like for epilepsy or sumn unless ur rolfe but <3 she has it <3

at odds with herself. enjoys the company of others, definitely has a history of being an extrovert, but has become very selective with the company she keeps.

VERY private person! has had enough public standing!

...has occasionally used her story to advance her tho bc it’s her national newsworthy tragic story and she can exploit it if she wants <3

when good charlotte said “i don’t wanna be in love”?? she felt that. her last ‘relationship’ ruined that for her <3 save her <3

used to be really into pop! bc pop is fun! she loved some britney (i mean... she still does... how can u not!)! but. her taste has changed drastically. rarely listens to pop. has traded britney for like.... hole and the like.

her parents didn’t use this as the basis for her name but,, 2 me,,, she’s named alice for a reason <3 gotta luv alice in chains <3

y’all i found a youtube comment on a video called ‘nirvana - half the man i used to be’ (the song was, in fact, ‘creep’ by stone temple pilots) and it’s <3 her music taste <3 click here for it <3

the above said, dresses like she’s in seattle in the early 90s.

her rumor is true btw she DID catfish david hasselhoff and she will proudly tell u. it’s her best accomplishment.

completely stopped talking to her parents and got cut-off a while back ago so now she’s livin like the Prols

which is how a rich kid one of my profs once advised referred to his classmates.... hilarity ensues.

the above in mind, her parents say she’s testing the waters as a ‘normal person’ to save face. they can’t have anyone knowing their family isn’t perfect <3

she has a pet turtle whom she named “dr. turtle,” although he’s constantly referred to as “doc” or “the doc.” he has his own youtube channel and tiktok account.

she has a wall full of evidence that courtney love did not kill kurt cobain... it makes sense, believe me.

became a vegetarian...... partially because it was different from her original life and a way to control something, partially because this commercial made her feel SO BAD.

literally her default mode is stoned like... a totally sober alice is rarer than a nessie sighting

when she was 18, before she could ‘hold her liquor’ as well as she can now, she got a lil too drunk and now has a portrait tattoo of courtney love on her forearm. but it was done well at least!!

kind of ironic considering her career, but RARELY posts on any social media site except twitter. after the media circus in 2014 and All Eyes On Her, she’s just..... so tired...... of ppl seeing her face and being like ‘omg ur that wine cellar bitch!’

(drugs tw) has become more and more Addicted to playing around with fate. j chill on a ledge, talkin to some pals, but deciding it’s a good idea to swing her legs on the wrong side of ledge? totally! mixing a lot of alcohol with opioids which she is not accustomed to? DEF!! (end tw)

more to come!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

i have two (2) queued up!! but while we wait for them to post, i’ll just… link them over here: 1, 2

muse u <3 the other half of her subplot from the main <3

her older sister!

her younger sibling!

some of the basics!! you know: close pal, roommate, drug buddies (but she gotta hit them up), fwb, ons, frenemies, enemy

ppl who recognize her from the 2014 luke johnson articles and have either brought it up or,,,,,,, act Awkward™

cld be fun 2 just have like. a jam bud. someone who plays any instrument and they j. jam sometimes.

ppl she sells. some of her medical marijuana to. bc yk what weed may be legal in nyc now but,,,, she’s still found a way to be broke she will accept anything. and also it just became legalized THIS YEAR so!!

i have a budding wc page @ https://escxpiism.tumblr.com/wcs (and when i say budding, i MEAN budding) so feel free 2 check it out!!

more to come!!

#masters.intro #alice | intro !#this took me like....... 2hrs 2 write so i do indeed think my mind is fooling me and actually lagging behind.

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to be Told

AN: I’m fairly shocked at the reception this story got, I didn’t expect to gain immediate attraction because I posted it at like 3am lol. Nonetheless, I am grateful to all the people who read this story. Once again, this chapter is dark as well. I promise this whole story is not going to be doom and gloom, but it feels inappropriate to even try to glaze over the cruel treatment of slaves in America and to be honest, this chapter is probably just a glimpse of what real life slaves were put through.

Word Count: 3.1k

Trigger Warnings: slavery, violence, physical/mental abuse, racism, racial slurs

Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is

That was seventeen years ago.

Sabine's life had changed for the "better", at least that's what Mistress Genevieve would try to convince her as such. Sabine certainly didn't see it that way, she was still a slave, after all. Not to mention, that the Martin family has for all intents and purposes, mentally and physically scarred her for the rest of her life.

Sabine was fucking miserable on the Martin Plantation.

From the moment Sabine arrived on the plantation as a child, she became something of a pet project to Genevieve. She taught Sabine arithmancy, how to read, write, and to speak proper English and French. This was not out of kindness though, no, this was a source of derision. Whenever Genevieve would host any type of social gathering, Sabine would find herself being paraded around by her Mistress to her guests.

She despised the gatherings with every fiber of her being, she was subjected to the most degrading comments by the party goers.

"Dear me, I didn't know negros had the capacity to learn how to read,"

"Genevieve, you must have the patience of a saint to be willing to teach a member of an illiterate species,"

"You taught the monkey to read and write? What's next Genevieve, music?"

This is what Sabine had been put through for as long as she could remember. Every time she learned and mastered something new, Sabine knew what was to come. She hated the fact that accomplishing something a white person could do was met with oohs and awws in the most mocking fashion from Genevieve's friends. Sabine remembered one night that word had spread at a party that she was fluent in French and for the rest of night she was bombarded with requests of ‘saying something in French’. She felt like an animal in a zoo and she knew that's how most people viewed her in the first place.

"Teach anymore parlor tricks to your pet Genevieve?"

Sabine would internally scowl every time she witnessed Genevieve be lavished in praise by her friends for her work. Isn't it sweet? The benevolent mistress bestowing an education to a lowly slave like herself. The Southern Belle, extending her graciousness to one of her lowliest effects.

Oh, but Sabine would find little ways to carry out her revenge especially as she grew older and was given tasks that held more responsibility. Her favorite way, "accidentally" pulling her mistress' corset too tight or "accidentally" stabbing her in the scalp with hairpins. Her yelps of pain would bring a ghost of smile to Sabine's lips which would instantly vanish if Genevieve turned around to scold her for her carelessness. And of course Sabine would offer a quick apology, telling her mistress that she didn't mean to and will be more mindful in the future. But the second Genevieve left the room, Sabine would let out a snicker only to be popped in the back of the head by Alice, the woman, who's in charge in keeping the rest of the slaves in order.

The blow was not out of malice, further from that really, it was out of love and concern. Alice had been like a mother figure to Sabine since the day she arrived on the plantation.

"One day the Mistress is not going to put up with your 'mistakes'," Alice warned, worry was evident in her eyes.

It wasn't until Sabine would turn sixteen the following year that Alice's warning would finally sink in for her. The most ironic thing about it was the fact that it didn't happen because of one of Sabine's mischievous acts, it happened because of the wandering eyes of Genevieve's husband, Aaron Martin. What's even more ironic, is that Master Martin didn't even want Sabine in the house at first, he wanted to make her a field hand. Genevieve convinced him otherwise, saying that she would be malleable and make the perfect, obedient slave since she had no attachments on their plantation.

She was wrong.

The decision to keep Sabine as a house slave would be one that Genevieve would come to regret, but only out of wounded pride. Sabine, on the other hand, longed for freedom and was desperate to escape the growing tension between Genevieve and Master Martin. She doubted that they knew how many times she fantasized about running away from the plantation. It was more than once as each day passed.

She had good reason to as well, Sabine had noticed that the mistress had been short-tempered with her as of late. And that was never more evident on one fateful day, where everything in Sabine's life seemed to further spiral out of what little control she had.

Sabine wiped down the top of the fireplace on the far wall of the parlor room, humming to herself.

"What's that song?"

Sabine stumbled in surprise of hearing Master Martin's voice, his French accent only slightly there. Pushing away from the fireplace, she tightened her grip around the rag in her hands as she stood at attention. His thin lips were curled up into a smile, a smile that Sabine was sure he thought would put her at ease, it didn't. Matter of fact, the expression had the exact opposite effect, Sabine thought his smile looked like a wound opening. Everything about the forty-five year old man unnerved her, Master Martin had a complexion that teetered between being pale and matte, short, dark brown hair sat on top of his oblong head. His long face made his humped nose prominent, but the most terrifying feature on his face was those piercing gray orbs.

It was the eyes of a predator stalking its prey.

Bowing her head in apology, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," Sabine apologized, vowing not to hum again.

"You didn't disturb me. What is that song?"

It's something that her mother would sing to her when she was younger. Sabine couldn't remember the words to the song, but she knew how the tune went, it was the only piece of her mother that she had left of her.

Shaking her head, "I don't know," Sabine lied remorselessly.

Instead of letting her get back to her work, Master Martin just continued staring at Sabine, it made her flesh crawl. His eyes traveled from her face before letting them roam down to her neck and then onto her chest. This had become increasingly normal behavior for Master Martin, each week it seemed like he managed to find her alone and just study her figure. His eyes would always linger on her breasts, and that was what made Sabine most uncomfortable in his presence.

Master Martin leaned against the door frame, "You've been filling out your dress quite nicely as of late Cecile," he commented, now looking at slim waist and then her hips as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Sabine had to swallow down the bile she felt that might escape her mouth.

"Cecile!" Genevieve's shrill voice called from down the hall. "Cecile! Where are you, you daft girl?!" she yelled, as she stopped right beside her husband. "Aaron, dear, what are you looking-" she began, but cut herself off when she followed her husband's leering gaze. Genevieve's expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes at Sabine, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She stormed over to Sabine and came to a stop in front of her.

"Mistress I-" Sabine started, but Genevieve's hand whipped out and struck her hard across the face. Sabine's head snapped to the side and she lowered her stare to the floor, her breath uneven as she rubbed her cheek.

It was the hardest slap she had ever received.

"You stupid girl! Why are you distracting the Master?" she demanded, glowering at Sabine. "Get out of here and get back to work!" she ordered, her rising temper reflected in her face.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied, quickly bowing her head as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"And didn't I tell you to cover that horrid hair of yours? The sight of it is revolting!"

Genevieve had never once demanded Sabine to cover her hair, not until that day. But from that day on, Sabine wore a headscarf religiously to cover her head. Sabine figured that Genevieve's thought process probably fell along the lines of, if Sabine's hair wasn't visible then she'd become less attractive. It was a flawed logic that did nothing of the sort, much to Genevieve's and Sabine's dismay. So, for Sabine, the physical and mental abuse she received from Genevieve increased on a scale that she never experienced before.

The days of Sabine just being a pet to show off to Genevieve's friends to poke fun at her, were long gone.

Genevieve now saw Sabine as competition for Master Martin's attention. Attention that Sabine never wanted in the first place, Genevieve could keep her disgusting husband all to herself for all she cared. But of course, Genevieve would never see it Sabine's way, no, somehow Sabine's at fault for Master Martin's lustful stares.

Things only seemed to get progressively worse for Sabine as the years passed and her body continued to mature. Not only did she draw the unwanted attention from her perverted master, but she unfortunately also captured the eldest son's attention, Marc. He was almost a spitting image of his father, but was by far, worse than him. He's actually touched her in inappropriate ways, too many times for Sabine to recall. At least Master Martin just stared at her, although Sabine was sure that one day he might begin touching her as well, her worst fear was that he would flat out rape her.

Lord knows, Marc had been working his way up to it.

Sabine noticed that he had become increasingly aggressive as of late. And that frightened her to no end. She remembered one time after a dinner party she had to serve in the parlor room where the male guests were playing cards. She had just finished serving a round of drinks to Marc's table and the way he decided to thank her was to roughly squeeze her ass with a disingenuous smile. This action made the men at the table roar with laughter, but all Sabine could feel was mortification.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner of the small shack that she called home.

Sabine wanted to believe that the abuse she was suffering could not get any worse, she thought wrong. For, not only was she terrorized by the Martin's, but Marc's arrogant, smug college friends who often visited the plantation, partook in her torment as well. They would whisper things in her ears that no upstanding, God-fearing gentlemen would ever say to a white woman.

And for having such a supposed repulsion and violent reaction to someone of her complexion, white men sure seem to fancy negro flesh. It was confusing, yet terrifying realization. How could you hate and treat someone with so much scorn, but at the same time want to sleep with them?

Sabine's worst experience with one of Marc's friends was that he managed to corner her and forceful stick his hand up her dress, grabbing her thigh, luckily his hand wasn't able to go any higher thanks to one Alain Martin.

The only kind-hearted Martin in the family.

Alain, the curly headed and bright blue-eyed boy who always had a boyish grin on his face. He actually treated Sabine and the other slaves on the plantation like actual human beings, showing them dignity and respect, something that was completely foreign to them. Sabine wondered how the cruelty that Alain's family gleefully inflicted on the slaves didn't corrupt him and make him turn out like them. Maybe it was because Alain had actually questioned his surroundings as a child and didn't simply just accept what his mother and father told him as fact. She could recall many times Alain saying, ‘that doesn't seem right’ as a child.

And as Alain grew older, he continued to challenge his parents on the practice of slavery, prompting several arguments and debates, especially when it was dinnertime. Sabine had been a witness to quite a few of the shouting matches that would erupt at the table between Alain and Master Martin, Alain would also go at it with his older brother. Marc claimed, 'that because of the negro skull size all they were capable of was menial work and that white people were justified for enslaving them. With no one to oversee the negroes, they would hurt themselves'. This claim only enraged Alain further and Sabine as well.

Sabine had more knowledge in her pinky, than Marc's thick skull.

She pitied Alain, he had become the black sheep of the family. He attended college in the North and his views against slavery had only become stronger. He was an unapologetic abolitionist, which of course was completely the opposite of what his family believed. There would be many times that Sabine found herself listening to Alain as he vented out his frustrations about his family. She didn't mind, because that's what friends do, you let them vent.

However, it was not always like this, the bond they shared now as young adults would seem unimaginable to Sabine when she was younger.

Sabine and Alain had spent a lot of time together as children, but not because she wanted to, at first. The only reason she and Alain were in close proximity all the time, was the fact that she was tasked with fanning him while he had lessons with his tutor. Sabine resented him, they were only two years apart and yet here she was fanning him like he was some type of king. She was cold towards him (as respectfully as possible) and it went on like that for a couple of months, until Alain decided to speak to her when his tutor went inside the house.

"Pssst, Cecile, do you know how to say this word?" he asked, pointing to a word in his book.

Internally, Sabine arched a brow, she didn't know if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or to mock her.

"No sir," she answered, her grip tightening on the fan at the fact that she had to address a fellow child as 'sir'.

"You didn't even look," he argued softly, looking up at her. "Come on, I know you're smart, probably smarter than me," he added, moving the book closer to her eyes.

"Don't let the master and mistress hear that," Sabine remarked mindlessly, before freezing at what she let slip from her mouth.

Sabine expected to hear Alain run from his seat and tell his parents what she said, instead she heard giggles.

"You're funny Cecile," he commented, shaking his head.

A breath of relief left Sabine and she craned her neck, "What's the word, sir?" she asked, her eyes scanning the ink on the page.

"This one," he replied, pointing to the third word on the page.

Sabine nodded her head, "It's glaciers, sir," she said, before looking at Alain.

"Thank you Cecile," he smiled, bringing the book closer to him again.

"Your welcome sir,"

"Alain," he corrected.

"What, sir?" Sabine asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Call me Alain,"

And from that day forward, to some extent a friendship was born. The breaks in between Alain's lessons where his tutor wasn't present, were the only time that the two of them could really speak to each other. Alain did most of the talking, he told Sabine things he probably wasn't supposed to and if his mother ever found what Alain told her, Sabine was sure that Genevieve would just about faint. Sabine on the other hand, was much more reserved on what she was willing to tell Alain. She never told him anything personal, just mainly what she did each day. Sabine was afraid of telling Alain something that could somehow finds its way back to Genevieve. But, as years passed and they slowly matured, Sabine finally felt that she trusted Alain enough to tell him her real name when they were fourteen.

She hadn't heard the name Cecile since.

It was a friendship of secrecy, but that didn't mean Alain wouldn't try to protect Sabine as best he could. Alain could do it overtly, like he done with Marc's friend by yanking him away from Sabine and punching him square in the jaw. Other times, he would opt for more subtle ways that were just as effective. Remember the assault that Sabine suffered in the parlor room? Well, Alain was a witness to his older brother's molesting of her.

Alain strode over to Marc, appearing as though he was going to tell him off, which for Sabine's sake, she hoped he wasn't. It would only lead to further humiliation of her in some sort of fashion and probably Alain as well. Alain approached the table where his brother was playing cards when he suddenly tripped over his feet. Sabine watched in almost awe as the champagne flew in the air before raining down all over Marc, soaking his hair and a part of his evening jacket and dress shirt.

Marc's face turned beet red.

Sabine had to force herself to keep a neutral face, for a grin was threatening to form on her lips followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"You clumsy idiot!" Marc exclaimed, venom laced in his insult.

Alain didn't seem affected by the remark, "I'm so sorry brother," he apologized, without the faintest hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I'll go get some towels for you," he offered, before turning to look at Sabine. "Will you escort me? I would hate for my clumsiness to resort in another mess," he explained, and Sabine nodded.

"Of course sir," she stated, and led Alain out the parlor room.

Once they were in the hallway and out of view from everyone, Alain grabbed Sabine's wrist and pulled her along to the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Entering the room, Alain let go of her wrist and the two of them stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. Sabine felt tears forming in her eyes and used the back of her finger to wipe it away.

"You're going to get an earful from your mother Alain," Sabine warned, with a breathless laugh.

"I don't give a damn," Alain declared, a proud grin on his lips. "Marc deserved it," he added, nodding his head.

Sabine leaned back against the counter, "You didn't have to do that for me," she said, looking over to her friend.

"No," Alain disagreed, vigorously shaking his head. "I had to, Sabine," he corrected, his expression turning serious. "Marc assaulted you. He humiliated you," he continued, his hands bawling up into fists. "Humiliation in return, it was the least I could do," Alain explained, and Sabine ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "I know it won't erase what was done to you Sabine, but I had to do something," he finished, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

"It is a small victory I shall revel in for a long time," Sabine said, placing her hand on top of his shoulder. "Thank you, Alain,"

Chapter Three: Steal Away

30 notes · View notes

hehron · 4 years

Text

Naming Orion Black

“I still can’t believe it.” Sirius said in awe for what was probably the hundredth time in two hours.

“A boy! We’re having a boy!” He said excitedly.

“Yes, Sirius, I was there.” Marlene replied, amused.

“This is the best thing ever! I’m going to teach him everything! He’s going to be just like me!”

“For his sake, I really hope he’s not exactly like you.” Upon seeing his affronted look, she added with a smirk. “No offense, hon.”

“Fine. Then he shouldn’t be anything like you either!” He shot back, then seemed to reconsider.

“No, that’s not true. I hope he gets your attitude.”

She arched an eyebrow. It was not every day that Sirius Black complimented you, even if you happened to be carrying his child.

“My, my Black! Was that an actual compliment?” She teased.

“Hey, don’t get used to it.” He teased back.

“But seriously- no, Don’t make a pun- what’s so great about my attitude?” She asked, summoning a bottle of pumpkin juice.

“You’re so damn patient. I’d have made a lot less mistakes if I’d been more like that.” He said wistfully and Marlene sensed that the conversation was leaning towards unpleasant territories.

“Lily would beg to differ. She says that I’m the most reckless person she knows.” Marlene drawled, deflecting his attention.

Sirius snorted. “Lily says that about everyone except Alice. Besides, you’re the only person who was friends with the Marauders and The Unattainable Witch And Friends in Hogwarts! That required a whole new level of patience.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose. “A most discriminatory name, if you ask me.” She said, with fake pompousness, then sipped her bottle of juice and grimaced. “I miss Fire Whiskey.”

“Would you kill me if I had some of it now?” Sirius asked innocently.

“Oh no! I’d just lock you in a room with Snape for a day.” She smirked.

“No alcohol for me.” He said quickly, his face green.

“Good boy.” She smiled, patting his head. It was a running gag between them to make as many ’dog’ jokes as possible.

“Back to our baby, what do you think we should name him?” Marlene asked curiously.

“Elvendork!” Sirius said enthusiastically.

“Sirius! James was joking about that!”

“No, he wasn’t. He just wants us to think that, so he can use it for his kid!” Sirius protested.

“Fat chance Demon Head would agree to that.” Marlene snorted, using the nickname they come up with for Lily when she had made Head Girl.

“But I love that name!”

“So? Give it to an owl then, like a sane person! We are not naming our son Elvendork!”

“What do you suggest?” Sirius asked, put out.

“What about Scorpion like the constellation?” She asked.

“I want to break that dumb Black tradition where we name our kids after celestial bodies.” Sirius grumbled.

“I know but I really like it. Your family was horrible and normally had bad ideas but this was perhaps the only good one. No matter what happens, our son will know that he’s not alone. He’ll always have a constant, a star, to look up to. That’s the most reassuring thing I can think of.” She sighed. She always had loved Astronomy.

“That’s-that-” Sirius started, before taking in a deep breath. “Look Marls, I know you have this weird connection with stars but honestly, I want nothing to do with the Black traditions. I loathe them and all of their dumb beliefs.” He said bitterly. His biological family was still a sore spot for him.

“Okay, I’m sorry Siri, I shouldn’t have suggested it.” Marlene said, trying not to feel dejected.

“What about naming him after your father or one of your brothers?” Sirius asked after a while.

That’s when inspiration struck her.

“What about naming him after yours?” She asked excitedly and he choked on his drink.

“I hope to Merlin that you mean Monty, Marlene.” He said, an unusual glint in his eyes.

“No,” She said patiently. “Your biological father, Orion.”

Sirius looked at her, horrified.

“I tell you I want nothing to do with them and you want to name our baby after him? Is it some weird pregnancy thing or have you completely lost it?!”

“Just listen to me-”

“No!” He shot to his feet and started pacing furiously. “You-you want- you actually want me to name my son after that bastard! You want me to forgive him after what he did to me?” He paused and turned to face her.

“He tortured me Marls!” He shouted.

“I know! That’s exactly why we should do it! It’s the perfect revenge!” She said, getting to her feet as well.

He stopped short and gaped at her.

“What the hell?” He asked, baffled.

“Sirius, what did Orion Black care about most in the world?” She asked calmly.

“His name, his reputation.” He said wryly. “Couldn’t stand it to have anyone tarnish it.”

“Exactly. And how do we plan on raising our son?” She quirked a brow.

“What? With morals, of course. We’ll raise him to be a good person. To not believe in all their pureblood rubbish-oh!” exclaimed Sirius, coming to the realisation.

“That’s right. Imagine, there would be nothing worse to Orion Black than to have his namesake be his complete opposite- a person who cares about muggles and defends them, someone who believes in everything he ever opposed, and that’s exactly who our child is going to be. Don’t you see, Siri? This is the perfect revenge. Your dear father would be rolling in his grave.” She finished savagely.

Sirius stared at her for a long time shaking his head in disbelief, but she could see the admiration in his eyes.

“You’re completely mental!” He barked out a laugh.

“I’ve never denied it.” She smiled cheekily. “So?”

“You would know the best revenge. James still has nightmares about your howler.” He said affectionately, pulling her close and nuzzling her cheek.

“Stupid git should have thought twice about reading my letter. So you agree?”

“Yes, Marlene Mckinnon, I agree with you on this ridiculous idea, but only because we will go down in history as the most legendary ‘revengers’!”

She laughed. “Oh babe, I’d love nothing more!”

“Marry me?” He asked suddenly, causing her head to snap up in shock.

“I thought we were only friends with benefits, and well, now a baby?”

“Only because you said you’d never tie yourself to one man for the rest of your life.”

“I might be persuaded.” She said slyly.

“Really? What would make you change your mind?” He grinned.

She hummed. “Hmm, you are a package deal. Take a husband and get a dog free.”

“Ah yes, dogs always did win you over.” He said solemnly.

“I might still need a bit more convincing.” She teased.

“How about we get married in our backyard in one week? That way, we get to watch Demon Head Lily kill herself and everyone else as she tries to set everything up in time!”

“Ooh, I like that!” Marlene cackled.

“So wanna get married for fun?”

“Yes, Sirius Black, I do want to marry you and start a ridiculous life, but only because I want to torture Lily and I really, really want a dog.”

#Sirius black #Marlene Mckinnon #Blackinnon #au #Harry Potter #Orion Black #oc #Naming Orion Black #Baby #fanfiction #Sirius×Marlene

30 notes · View notes

stark-tony · 5 years

Note

Uhm hi I am in desperate need of iron dad and spiderson fics. ASAP Or I might actually die. Pls help

i’m not for sure what type you want but here are some that I’ve read recently

* = incomplete

irondad bingo series* by hailingstars

summary:

pairings: pepperony, happy/may

tags: fluff

warnings: none

heart and nerve and sinew series* by blondsak

summary:

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: hydra, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Up Came the Sun series* by WhimsicalEthnographies

summary:

pairings: pepperony, stucky

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

irondad bingo 2019 series* by sahiya

summary:

pairings: happy/may, pepperony, ned/peter

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: torture

a very, merry unbirthday by ciaconnaa

summary: “What’s all this, huh?” Peter asks. His eyes don’t leave the table as he wanders over to stand by where Tony is sitting, wrapping him in a gentle hug and pushing his head into his chest. Tony smiles before he tugs gently on the sleeve. Peter gets the message and leans down, allowing Tony to kiss his temple in greeting.

“You threw me a birthday party,” Peter accuses, smile going all dopey.

“An unbirthday party,” Morgan corrects. “Like in Alice in Wonderland. For all the ones you missed!”

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The Hoodie™* by coconutknightshade

summary: The one in which Tony overhears Peter telling his roommate that the MIT hoodie he’s wearing is his dads.The one in which Peter never plans to call Tony ‘dad’ to his face but the universe has other plans.

pairings: pepperony, happy/may

tags: fluff

warnings: none

A Parent Apparent* by happyaspie

summary: In which the author indulges herself in some shameless Irondad/Spiderson with fluff, angst and everything in between because she needs more of that in her life.

Just another one of those, oh so overdone, fanfics where Tony and Peter’s relationship grows into more of a father/son relationship after an accident involving Aunt May (who lives)

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

oh, darling. by luna_e_stelle

summary: "Peter?“ Tony’s voice wavered with an urgency that cut through the thick haze in Peter’s mind.

There was so much emotion in that one word that Peter wondered how he had ever doubted that Tony loved him. They had never said it out loud, just showed it in a way that spoke louder than words ever could.

–

Peter is taken, and he tries to find his way back home.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Metamorphosis by art_deco_deity

summary: How Peter Parker changed Tony Stark; seen through the eyes of one Pepper Potts.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Sunlight by ArdenSkyeHolmes221

summary: “Stop pouting and ignoring me. You’re giving me a complex.”

“I am— I’m not pouting,” he sputters, avoiding his father’s gaze.

“Oooh, but you are ignoring me.”

***

Or the one where Peter struggles reintegrating in his own life after his dad lived five years without him.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none

forty miles by peterstank

summary: “I love you,” Peter says. “Father-son styles.”

Or: the one where Morgan is sick and Tony is in way over his head, so he calls his spiderson for a little bit of help.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

A Little Monument of Stones by YellowDistress

summary: Russia’s royal family has been executed. The little prince is presumed dead.

That is until a boy is brought to Stark Manor, alive, thousands of miles away in rural England.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

How to Repair a Broken Heart* by InfluentialPineapple

summary: The Mechanic has a lot on his plate; Thanos is coming, the Guardians of the Galaxy are marooned, Thaddeus Ross is reaching right down his throat, and a budding super hero deserves his full attention. He’s also dying. No big deal. He can fix it. He can fix anything.

And he can do it all without even opening that stupid phone.

Now, where did those notes on Extremis go…?

(06/25/19: expect an update within a week, and I thank you all for your patience!)

pairings: pepper/ happy

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism

Outsider by PinkEasterEggs

summary: “You know,” his Dad mused when they were halfway through the bread and the ducks were all swimming around them. “I used to come here during the 5 years when you were … gone.”

Peter didn’t know what to say, he’d half expected his Dad to of brought Morgan.

“I never brought any bread,” Tony sighed. “I just sat on that park bench for hours. I thought about bringing Morgan one year but … i wanted this place to be ours and ours only.”

Peter couldn’t even say how much that meant to him.

“You’ve changed,” Peter admitted. His Dad had created a whole new life for himself, one that Peter wasn’t really sure where he fit. All of his stuff had been thrown out and the Tower was sold.

“I know,” Tony sighed, ducking his head down to kiss Peter’s crown. “But i’ll always be your Dad.“

Peter tries to find his place in the world after the Avengers defeated Thanos. As much as he knows he’s loved, he can’t shake the feelings of being replaced when he comes into a new world where his father is now married and had another child.

(No Spider-Man Far From Home Spoilers)

#10: Biological Child

pairings: pepperony

tags: angst

warnings: none

Appendicitis by tommyparkerr

summary: In which Peter doesn’t realize until too late that the flu shouldn’t be this painful, and Tony Stark is right there to both lecture and comfort him (and accidentally call him his kid in the process).

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Allston Christmas by Gruoch

summary: “You guys didn’t have to do this,” Peter says from where he sits squeezed into the middle seat of the U-Haul, sweat running down his back. The air-conditioning in the truck they’ve rented is broken, and even with the windows rolled down it’s hellishly hot inside. “Really. I could have handled it myself.”

“We wanted to,” Tony replies as he blasts the horn at a minivan with a “Harvard Mom” bumper sticker that is attempting to cut into his lane. “It’s like a little trip down memory lane. It’s nostalgic—it’s gonna be fun. Right, Rhodey?”

“Absolutely,” Rhodey agrees, with all the enthusiasm of a man being lead to the gallows.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

who ya gonna call? by pparker (vaselseok)

summary: He shrieks and stumbles backward on instinct, slipping in the soapy water. His arms flail out in hopes of catching himself, but instead he snags the shower curtain and ends up ripping it free from the rod as he crashes to the ground. A split second later, the metal rod smacks into his nose.

“…Ow.”

Or, Peter thinks he’s being haunted, and Tony’s just trying to get through the week.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

Do Spiderlings Dream of Iron Sheep?* by blondsak

summary: A mission leaves Peter with narcolepsy. Tony may or may not be freaking out.

pairings: none

tags: humor, angst

warnings: none

chocolate chip cookies (alternate words for i love you) by hopeless_hope

summary: Being a superhero, Tony has come to expect a lot of things. He can’t really afford to be surprised by too much; being flexible is just part of the job. Aliens attacking New York? Sure. People threatening to attack his home? Not uncommon. A teenage spider-kid baking cookies in his kitchen at almost three in the morning?

Completely unexpected.

“You know, kid, when I said you’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, this isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Tony says dryly.

The evolution of Peter and Tony’s relationship, as told through late night conversations and chocolate chip cookies. aka 5 times Peter baked cookies for himself and Tony and 1 time Tony did the baking.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

It Hurts to Become by seekrest

summary: “Peter, what is going on with you?”

Tony sees the look in Peter’s eyes – can recognize the hint of something burrowing behind them. A look of someone who is distracted but is desperately trying to focus.

Peter looked exhausted, more than usual. Something’s off with the kid, he’d noticed it but now – watching Peter as it seemingly took all of his attention to focus on Morgan – caused something akin to regret to churn in his stomach.

Something was wrong with Peter.

pairings: michelle/peter

tags: angst

warnings: none

The Chilling Realities Of Hunting And Being Hunted by Buckets_Of_Stars

summary: All Peter and Tony had to do was cross the mountains. That’s it. Just climb a few hills and get to the Convention. They didn’t count on the snow, or the wind, or the fact that neither of them have cell service.

And they definitely didn’t count on the fact that they would be hunted—stalked—as they sit, freezing and shaking, on the side of the road.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

For Pete’s Sake! by KitCat992

summary: Maybe he’d feel better if he closed his eyes, just for a second. It was too dark to see anything clearly anyway, and he’d be able to concentrate better without seeing how fast the ground was coming up to meet him.

A rush of wind sent goosebumps across his skin before two strong hands gripped his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright and from nose-diving straight into the alleyway cement.

Peter snapped his eyes open, blinking a couple times to clear his vision. Everything was blurry. Was that…?

“…ice cream man!?”

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

#mcu #irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my fic recs #Becca answers #justanothergurlwholovesmarvel #tw torture #tw kidnapping #tw hydra #tw nonconsensual drug use #tw alcoholism #tw suicidal thoughts #I think i'll probably put this as another in general rec list #cause it doesn't really have a theme going on

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